My Lady's Dragon
by Chiara da Luna
Summary: Set in 1813, after Crucible of Gold, when Temeraire & his formation have returned to England. The orphaned daughter of the Earl of Wexley and Captain Rosabelle Blakeney of Florenzia comes to the Dover covert to take care of her remaining family, but she finds that dragons play by their own rules. A combination of OC (owned by Naomi Novik) and mine with various implications.
1. Chapter 1

_**My Lady's Dragon **_

**Chiara da Luna**

Later, Lady Rose could not identify the impulse that made her ask her aunt for a duplicate mourning brooch for her sister, Lady Lilias. Perhaps it was the shock of her aunt offering anything at all. The request for the second brooch allowed her aunt to repent of her generosity and purse her lips in disapproval, though she did indeed consent to its purchase. Rose now wore one pinned to her pelisse and carried the other wrapped and tucked inside the fur muff bought for her first London season, too many years ago to be fashionable, during the short trip from Wexley to Dover. She fingered the brooch in its wrapping to contain her anxiety on the slow plod from the posting house, accomplished in a surgeon's gig and pulled by the most ancient horse she'd ever seen in harness. She stole a glance at the surgeon's profile. After meeting her at the posting house, he had hardly said a word to her beyond introducing himself and cutting off her questions about her sister's health with the information that he was a dragon surgeon. Once, when a sigh escaped her, despite her best efforts, he addressed her supposed impatience by saying that the old horse had the advantage of having lost his sense of smell and could thus endure the presence of dragons with equanimity.

When the gig stopped just inside the covert gates, a young man left his company of two others in the courtyard to offer his hand to help her down. Rose drew back in shock, recognizing her sister. "Lilias-Lil! I expected to find you laid down on your bed." She took the offered hand because there was no other.

"I am sure," said the dragon surgeon in the sourest of tones, "that Captain Blakeney has followed her physician's advice and spent the day in bed and is only now taking a short constitutional stroll to the dinner table and not planning to visit the dragon pavilion at all."

"Oh, rather," agreed Lady Lilias with careless mendacity-though Rose supposed she would have to get used to hearing "Captain Blakeney" instead. "Dinner, that's what we need now. Good heavens, Rose, you've brought your own plate. I've never seen a brooch that big."

Rose pulled her hand off the brooch in the muff. She had imagined a quite different reaction. Instead of the gracious offering of the duplicate and sharing a tearful moment with her sister, she retorted instead, "How many have you seen?"

Her sister laughed, somewhat wheezily. "Very few, it is true. Rose, these are my friends Captain Harcourt and Lieutenant Roland. My sister," she offered as an introduction.

Rose saw that these friends were females too, and she blushed for their military breeches and coats. Of course, she knew that as members of the Aerial Corps, her mother and sister must have worn such uniforms, but during their visits to Wexley, they had always worn skirts. She cast her eyes down in embarrassment and did not see the source of deeper voices hailing.

"Do join us at dinner," called her sister to these voices. "My sister has just arrived."

A dreadful scream rent the air. They all jumped.

Lt. Roland, a tall girl close to Rose's age, her sandy hair rigorously disciplined into a queue, sighed as she recovered her composure. "It's one of mother's lady benefactors, you know."

"Oh?" asked Rose, bewildered. "I thought it was a peacock. Should we offer assistance?"

Lil barked her wheezy laugh again. "It is a dratted peacock. Some Society lady thought we should have them to…actually' I don't know why."

Lt. Roland shook her head. "They take the oddest notions. They want to contribute; Mother explains what we need; they give us…peacocks, peacocks that we must not molest or feed to the dragons. We put them near the visitor's entrance to impress our guests with our culture and refinement—" the other women snorted—"and as far away from our quarters and work as may be."

The men joined them in time to smile at this sally. Lil took command. "Let's see if I can do this right. Lady Rose, may I present Captain Laurence, Captain Granby, and Captain Demane? Gentlemen, I present my sister, Lady Rose Danforth. There! Am I polite enough for St. James?"

Captain Laurence's bow reminded or instructed the other two men of their duties. He looked bemused as they tried but failed to imitate his grace.

Lt. Roland asked, "Should we call you Lady Lil, then?"

"Not a bit," said Lil. "I agree with my mother, that the highest title one can have is 'Captain.'"

"Danforth…Your mother..." said Captain Laurence, a shocked expression blooming across his features. "It's true, then: The Countess of Wexley did serve in the corps. I always thought it just an aviator's joke, when someone would cheer for God, King George, England, and the Countess of Wexley. But she was Florenzia's captain, and your mother."

"Captain Belle Blakeney was my mother, and she never wanted any other title," said Lilias with steel in her voice.

"She did not use Papa's name then?" asked Rose, bewildered.

"No," snapped Lilias. "I don't either. That is, I use her name, for simplicity's sake. The Blakeneys have been aviators for generations. And I'll thank you, Mr. Walking Debrett's, not to mention my father's name or title again."

"I beg your pardon, Captain Blakeney. And I am pleased to meet you, Lady Rose." He bowed to both of them. "My condolences on the sad death of your mother."

Rose muttered the acceptable response and let the uneasy silence reign.

Lt. Roland broke the tension. "You must want to change after your journey. I do also; I'm all a-muck."

"Lt. Roland, it's no longer part of your duties to bathe Temeraire," said Captain Laurence, not quite laughing.

"No," retorted his officer. "But it is my duty to make sure that the runners do it correctly-before Temeraire tells them, that is. I thought we cheered the Countess of Wexley because Wexley sends us so many squeakers. They were all over Loch Laggan when I was in school, and one of our new runners came from there."

"Maybe because of Mother, Wexley's people considered the Corps for their children," suggested Rose. Since she was seven and could hardly manage the teapot, she had poured tea at the farewells for the village and tenantry children embarking on careers and education, such as to service or apprenticeship. Certainly a number of those children, even girls, went to the Corps, but she hadn't been aware that it was unusual, though now that she considered the matter, there had been more future aviators than seamen.

"No doubt," agreed Lt. Roland. "Lady Rose, let me show you to your room to save Lil a few steps. They've put you both on the ground floor, I believe. Such a fuss it was, getting that room for you! You'd think they asked the King to bunk down in Soho. But the surgeon was firm, that Lil not have to climb stairs. Let's step lively now. These friends of ours draw the line at missing the best food because other people are dressing for dinner." She grabbed Rose's bags and led the way with Rose trailing uncertainly.

Their steps were not lively enough to carry them beyond the range of Captain Granby's voice, trained for many years to make himself heard on dragon-back. "So this is Florenzia's new captain, then?"

Rose stumbled over the door sill and steadied herself against the wall. Lt. Roland's voice turned into an unintelligible buzz. With a hazy smile, Rose entered the room indicated and unpacked her evening dress. Her hands trembled, making the buttons and ties a struggle. She yanked a comb harder than usual through her travel-tousled hair. Tears sprung to her eyes; she was glad for the excuse. She longed to pull out the letter from Lilias' surgeon and reread it, the letter that had sent her scurrying pell-mell from the family estate to nurse her desperately ill sister, who now appeared to need nothing at all but a cough syrup. But mindful of Lt. Roland's words, she took quick stock of herself in the mirror, prinked her rebellious hair once more, and pinned the maligned brooch to her corsage. It was much larger than any of her other jewelry, but its subject, worked in jet and grisaille, was so apposite to her situation, that she had silenced any internal whispers and ignored her aunt's. One last glance told her that she still liked it very much indeed; she would just have to brazen it out.

But when she stepped into the hall, just as Lt. Roland descended the stairs, she stopped abruptly. The young officer's idea of dressing for dinner was an unmuddied bottle-green coat and gleaming white pants. Rose cast a panicked look down at her black silk evening gown.

Lt. Roland seemed to think her hesitation was due to confusion of geography and kindly held the door to the courtyard open. Rose blinked away the last of her tears and nodded a thanks to the officer as she swept into the courtyard with her chin so high that she thought she'd break her neck.

"Rosie, girl, we're not at St. James," hooted her sister.

"St. James would not admit me dressed so informally," Rose replied. "I do beg your pardon, ladies and gentlemen: there was no one to advise me on appropriate dress. Perhaps I should take tea and toast in my room." She speculated grimly on what one should wear to sit down with women in britches; she was quite certain that she owned nothing appropriate.

"Nonsense," said Captain Granby. "You must be famished, and we do not stand on ceremony here—though you may if you wish to. You do us proud, actually. The Chinese are visiting to teach us their ways of fighting, and they always come to dinner swathed in layers of silk and jewels, while we look the veriest scrubs. I'm glad to have you retrieve our reputation."

"I'm sure I know very little about such things," said Captain Harcourt, looking Rose over critically. "But it seems a very handsome dress to me, though I doubt I could manage all the ruffles. I see now that the brooch is a mourning brooch. Perfectly appropriate. Lil, you're unkind, to tease her about it."

They filed through the dining hall doors, and Rose could see Captain Laurence unobtrusively arranging their seating at the first table. With a nod here and a touch there, he stood at its head with Lil and Rose to either side of him, Captains Granby and Demane to their left, followed by Captain Harcourt next to Captain Granby and Lt. Roland by Captain Demane. Captain Laurence had never stopped speaking, which also disguised his activities. "As many times as I've heard our female aviators complain about their awkwardness in skirts, I would think that wearing a dress at dinner, when time permits, could only benefit them."

"Only if you also advocate knee breeches for men," retorted Lil as she took her seat.

"I do," said Laurence, as he held a chair for Rose before taking his own seat at the table's head. "I would have all our aviators comfortable in whatever dress or company they find themselves."

Leaving them to continue their sparring, Rose turned to her other dinner partner, the young African captain. His skin, hair, and eyes were near black; they emphasized the white around his irises as he stared at her in terror. Falling into her duty as lady, she smiled and strove to put him at his ease. As an aviator's daughter, she knew how to do so. "Do tell me about your dragon, Captain Demane. Did you inherit him?"

Demane brightened and, forgetting his social horrors, informed her of Kulingile's uncertain start and present excellence in a voluble intelligent voice, despite a slight accent.

A reference to his brother led her to inquire more particularly about him , and Demane said that Sipho was an ensign on Temeraire. Rose remarked that her mother and sister had hardly ever served together either; Florenzia desired it so.

"Often they do, so that they shan't lose two people at once," said Demane. "We started with Temeraire. It is a good berth for a youngster; Captain Laurence is quite the schoolmaster, a very good thing for both of us when we left Africa, especially my brother, who always has his nose in a book. He wants to go to university."

Lt. Roland on his other side claimed his attention, and Rose turned back to her dinner, briefly glancing at Captain Laurence to see if he was still engaged with her sister. She flushed a little when she found him regarding her, but his gaze was so warm that she could not take offense.

"That was well done—very well done indeed," he said in a low voice. "It is good for Demane to converse, particularly with people not in the Corps. You knew exactly how to talk to him."

She laughed softly. "As an aviator's daughter and my father's hostess for as long as I can recall, I should hope so indeed."

"You are young to have so much experience and assurance."

"Papa declared when I was barely out of leading strings that he wasn't going to eat alone every night. And even when he had guests—he liked to have his friends about him—he did not banish me to the nursery. I consider myself fortunate to have had such a, oh, such a friend for a father."

"Your father must have been lonely with your mother in service."

Rose sighed. "I have often wondered how they came to marry."

"Oh, they'd known each other forever," Lil interjected.

Rose blinked at the interruption from across the table, unheard of in polite society.

"Grandfather, Ma's father, was the vicar of Wexley, and when he died, the family went to live with Uncle Blakeney. He has a little patch of bad farmland that abuts Wexley to the the south. A family of five with four daughters is no small thing to inherit, and when his Cousin Jack-Captain John Blakeney of Tyrannus-suggested sending Ma to the Corps, Uncle jumped at it like a cock at a blackberry. Father was a few years older than she, but they had grown up playing together, and he was being sent to Harrow at the same time. He engaged her as a correspondent, and they exchanged letters all the way through his time at Cambridge. By then he knew that he was more ineligible as a husband than a Cockney half-pay officer, and, of all things, after ten years of ignoring her, Ma's family was pressing her to marry. I think Cousin Jack told them that she was expected to produce a child or two for Florenzia, and they wanted respectable children."

"I believe many men are reluctant to settle to the duties of family life at a young age," said Laurence, after a glance at Rose's face.

"Lord, it wasn't children he minded," replied Lil with a rasping laugh. "It was women he couldn't stomach, not in the wifely way, and he was kind enough not to want to inflict that disappointment on any young woman. But as the Earl of Wexley, it was his duty to produce at least an heir, and there was Ma with the same requirement, but unable to fasten down to a husband. So they married, not without fuss, because his family held it to be an unequal match, though she was a gentleman's daughter. They'd hoped for an heiress to restore the Wexley fortune. The Corps frowned on it too, thinking that Ma might find the duties of the Countess of Wexley interfering with the duties of captain.

"Their agreement was an heir for him and a girl for the Corps. Ma was already tapped for Flossie's egg, and no one expected the egg to hatch for three or four years. So she thought she might as well get one of the children out of the way. Only I was born, not the future Earl they were hoping for, and one night a courier arrived in the shortly before dawn. They bundled Ma on back of a Greyling with her wearing only her night dress, with me at her breast. So you see, when I say I've been riding a dragon since I was a suckling babe, it's no more than the exact truth. We arrived before the little Xenica was totally out of the shell, and Flossie's first words were, 'Oh, you have an egg too!' Ma introduced herself and me-a first in the Corps history, no doubt-and Flossie said, 'Will you give me a pretty name like Lilias too?' Fortunately Ma was very fond of flower names and had chosen Florenzia for her dragon's name back when she named me. Flossie was pleased at having a longer name than Lilias-even then I was called Lil.

So after an appropriate time, Ma had you-again no earl for Papa-and then she was so occupied with war that there was no time for more eggs. Finally she did produce our brother, when I was of an age to fly with Florenzia on patrol while Ma recovered at Wexley and in London."

Throughout the distressingly frank recital, Rose felt her face flame. To shut down reminisces surely inappropriate but for whispers in the family, she said in a low voice, "I do think that was the happiest year of my life, to have Mother at home for so long, instead of just a few days' visit. I was presented that year-everyone said sixteen was too young, but Papa was already ill and most determined have me provided for before his death. I was so glad that Mother presented me and not Aunt."

"Lord, I do know what you mean," agreed Lil. "Ma had you the year I went into the Corps, and I was very happy to go home each day to a cottage in Loch Laggan instead of a dormer full of squalling brats missing their homes. One howling baby was a small price to pay, and by the time you were weaned and packed off to Wexley, with Mother taking off to the skies, I did not mind the communal life. But how comes it that you are not provided for? Meaning married, I'm sure." Lil addressed the table, "My sister is ever so accomplished-sings, plays more instruments than I can identify, draws, sews-all those ladylike skills. And you see how pretty is. Did you have no offers?"

Rose consigned herself to terminal embarrassment. "Only one. And Papa said, he said..." She sighed and embraced frankness as the order of the day. "He'd be-dashed-before he'd give me to a man twice his age and twice as sinful, that I could trust him to recognize a reprobate and a miserable prospect for a husband. In truth, I did not care for the suitor at all, but daughters of the threadbare aristocracy are not presented with many choices."

"Quite right not to have him," agreed Lil. "Many worse ways to earn your bread. And Papa was no doubt correct in his expert summation."

"I didn't know about his, his expertise," whispered Rose, looking down at her plate full of bits she'd cut beyond recognition and pushed around during Lil's recitation Maybe they were fish. Or chicken.

"Not the sort of thing dearest Papa would have said, not to a daughter of tender years. Ma would have told you any time you asked," observed Lil as she turned to answer a sally from Captain Granby.

"Lady Rose," said Captain Laurence in an undertone, "Although this information comes as a shock to you, I hope it does not color your pleasant memories of your father-if indeed you have them."

"Oh, yes," whispered Rose, blinking her eyes with haste. "He was at home most of the time, trying to turn the estate around. He preferred to gather friends at his home than seek them elsewhere." She swallowed as though in pain. "Mostly men, I see that his friends were. They were so jolly! They made such a pet of me, played with me as much as he did and always took me with them during their daytime excursions."

"Despite my reputation, I hope I shall never speak for immorality or law-breaking," said Laurence, also regarding his plate. "Yet I know that this vice does not preclude a fellow from being a good, brave man on whom anyone might rely."

Rose understood that he would not look up for fear of identifying such a one. She flicked her gaze around the table. Not Captain Demane, leaning close enough to Lt. Roland to touch her. Granby, conversing easily with Lil to one side and Capt. Harcourt on the other? Or others not of their party who had filled in the lower seats of the table? Most of them were Chinese women, indeed weighed under heavy silk and jewels, with a young African boy who must surely be Captain Demane's brother attending them. It was no use. Laurence would not identify the man; she could only thank him for his kind counsel.

She hardly knew how to continue the conversation, but he turned the topic easily.

"Your sister says that you are musical. Are you fond of the opera?"

It was easier to smile. "Oh, beyond anything! Papa always took me, and after he died, Lord—" she brought herself up sharply. Surely it would not do now to name Papa's friends. "A friend of Papa's included me in his opera parties whenever I was in London." She clenched her teeth to stop her chin from quivering. Lord Kester had been kindness itself, seeking her out, sharing her mourning, remembering Papa with her, and when Aunt and the London gossips began to couple their names, he took her aside and explained that he was ineligible for marriage. "No, I ain't going to tell you why, Rose, just that it has nothing to do with you, though you may always rely on me for any other service. So your beast of an aunt may expect my declaration until Doomsday, but don't you do so, my girl. Your father wouldn't have allowed it, ever, sensible man that he was." She had thought he meant he could not afford a wife; she understood him better now, far better than she wanted to think about at the moment, and she forced her attention back to Captain Laurence, describing his favorite performances. She agreed with him, though she had no idea which opera he was talking about.

"When I was first put to Temeraire, I thought I should never go to the opera again. I am happy to have been proven wrong, though my service has not allowed me to go as often as I would like. If events allow, perhaps you would like to accompany me during the Little Season, if you lighten your mourning by then. My mother would lend me her box, I am sure, and I could form a party. It would be a good education for Lt. Roland and Captain Demane. Now what have I said to make you laugh?"

Rose dashed a hand across her eyes to wick away the last of her tears and gave herself over to smiles instead. "Only that Captain Demane said you were quite the schoolmaster. I perceive that it is true."

He returned her smile. "I do not deny the accusation, but all my friends are now in the Corps—and few of them attend the opera. But I also intend to invite Lord Admiral Roland and your sister, perhaps Captain Granby also, if he cares to come."

"I thank you for my share of the favor," said Lil, intruding again. "But the opera is not my idea of a treat by any means. Not that I've ever been, but I do my best to avoid Society, not being raised to it. Besides, rumor has it that we're fighting a war. Hard to make plans that far away."

Throwing courtesy to the winds and steeling herself for unpleasantness, Rose spoke across the table to her sister. "Rumor also has it that I am to be Florenzia's next captain."

Lil looked at her plate. "It's a notion Florenzia took. I admit I didn't do much to discourage it-it cheered her up and she started eating a bit. She's wounded herself and can't do much besides lie around and brood. And then when the doctors said I'd never go up again-well, this notion took very well with her. But you're not fit for the job. No one expects you to become her captain."

"No one except Florenzia!" said Rose, still appalled.

Granby gave a crack of laughter that he immediately tried to suppress. Rose looked at him, shaking with laughter, and then to Laurence, wearing a bemused smile. She said, somewhat towards Laurence, as was proper, "I love a joke as well as anyone, gentlemen."

Granby said, "Oh, don't mind us. It's just that the dragon gets its way, whatever everyone or anyone else thinks." When she gasped in horror, he added, "But I have the most recalcitrant dragon in the Corps, though some think Temeraire has that honor. 'That Jacobin beast,' Wellington calls him. Both Laurence and I have been dragged where we most emphatically would not go."

"I would not have you believe that," said Laurence. "Though I have done things I would not have thought of but for Temeraire's urging. But the situation is quite different, Lady Rose. We were already dragon captains, not the same as your situation at all."

Looking at Granby's continued mirth, Rose did not feel comforted.

Lil stood, "Gentlemen, I trust you'll excuse me. I must oversee Florenzia's meal. Hardly eats a thing these days."

In the murmur of sympathy and assent, Rose jumped to her feet. "I'll go with you." She hurried to catch up with Lil, who neither consented nor waited.

She pushed the door open wide and almost ran after her sister into the courtyard. "Lil, I must know-"

"I daresay, but not just now." Lil hailed a little Greyling courier and his captain, just as they touched down. "James! Volly! Just who I want to see. Volly, if you'll carry me to Flossie's pavilion, she'll share her dinner with you. Prepared by Temeraire's own cook, it is."

"Cows!" said the little dragon happily, dancing a few steps.

"Venison tonight, old thing."

"Lil, you're not supposed to ride. You said so," Rose interjected, worried.

"Low and slow! Low and slow! Deer!" caroled Volatilus.

"You see, he knows just how to carry me: near to the ground, no faster than a horse. And considering how a horse jolts you to pieces, I think a low, slow dragon is a better option. James, does this outing meet with your approval?"

The captain waved as he shambled towards the dining hall. "Oh, rather. Anybody that will feed my bottomless pit of a dragon is my bosom bow. Am I too late for coffee?" He shambled away without waiting for an answer.

Lil slung a leg over the little Greyling, still as large as a horse. She extended a hand to Rose, who did her best to perch side saddle while clutching her sister's waist. True to his word, Volatilus hardly rose at all and kept such a pace that the sisters felt only the gentlest of breezes.

In minutes, they arrived in a courtyard between dragon pavilions. Rose had only seen her mother's Florenzia on her sporadic visits to Wexley, never many dragons together, and never heavy weights. An enormous red and gold fellow, despite his amiable countenance, made her shiver. The long, red one that steamed, while not very tall, was frightening because it looked like a snake. Another group of red ones clustered together, menacing because of their numbers as well as their size.

Noticing her glance, Lil said, "Those are Scarlet Flowers. Temeraire and his formation talked them over from China to help fight Napoleon. Every day we have Chinese-style drills. Well, everyone else does." She turned away abruptly. "Flossie, you have Temeraire's very own cook come to prepare your meal. It must be delicious. And here is your friend Volly, come to dine with you. Is it not pleasant to eat with friends?"

A pretty blue dragon covered with butterfly-like splotches, on the heavy side of middle weight, lay extended to her full length with her head almost hanging over the front edge of her pavilion. At the sisters' approach, she raised her head slightly and flopped back down, ignoring the team of Chinese men who labored over a huge cauldron sunk to floor level to her right.

But at Lil's words, with a combination of a scowl and a growl, Florenzia lifted her head and let it drop in the cauldron. As she gulped, she kept an jealous eye on Volatilus. Finally she dragged her head back and sighed. "I cannot eat any more. Oh, go ahead," she said spitefully to the Greyling, who hopped up on the pavilion and finished the dish with gusto. The Chinese bowed to Florenzia repeatedly and thanked her for the honor she did them by eating their food. Florenzia waved them away and with a last look of dislike at Volatilus, said, "Please express my gratitude to Temeraire. I am grateful to him for sparing you to me." After a grudging moment, she added. "It was very good." She ducked her head in a cauldron on her other side, which seemed to contain water.

"Look here," croaked Lil. "I've brought Rose to you. My sister."

Florenzia raised her dripping head, her many tendrils in a tangle.

Rose always wanted to brush them, but knew better than to try: A dragon's tendrils were exquisitely sensitive. "I am sorry you are not feeling well, Florenzia."

"Who could feel well when her captain is dead, even if she hadn't taken a ball right on the wing joint?" She peered closely at Rose. "You are not much like your mother, like Lil is."

"You discover that every time you see me. You know I am thought to resemble my father." Rose quaked at the large head less than a foot away, but she forced herself not to move. Too well she remembered her nurse whispering, "You're the daughter of a captain. Stand still or I'll throw you in the duck pond."

Florenzia sighed. "I keep hoping that you'll outgrow it, but perhaps it is time to give over such a hope. You wrote me a letter when she died-your mother, my captain. It was a very pretty letter. I read it often, as you were considerate enough to write large enough for me."

Rose reached out a tentative hand to stroke the soft nose. "Mother told me when you learned to read and write and bought the big paper for me. I am sorry that my first letter to you was on such a sad occasion."

"Oh! As I did not know that you intended to write, I did not miss it. But it was a very pretty letter. 'Bereft in an instant of her we both loved...' I shall never forget it. I have very little opportunity to forget anything. I am not allowed to fly, just for a few minutes each day, very gently. The rest of the time I lie here alone and wish for company. And if anyone comes-not that they hardly ever do-I wish they would go away. And yet I cannot bring myself to answer your letter, as is polite."

Rose swallowed. "There is no need to. I am here and you may tell me whatever you wish. You have expressed yourself quite prettily."

Florenzia shook her head. "Civilized beings express their thoughts in writing."

Lil snorted. "You just want it included in the Book." She explained to her sister. "You must know that Temeraire, Captain Laurence's dragon, is mad for having dragons recognized for their intellectual prowess. To this end, he is publishing a book, _Writings of the Dragons_. Temeraire is waiting for his mother to write back, granting permission for her letters to be published. That section is to be called 'A Dragon's Correspondence with his Mother.' Even the feral dragons have a long folktale that Demane's brother Sipho is trying to record. They keep changing the story, and it drives him mad."

"Perhaps my letter will be 'A Dragon's Thoughts on the Death of Her Captain.' I am sure it could not fail to interest." Florenzia sighed again.

"You are very sad. It is natural after such a loss, as is a certain lethargy." Rose patted Florenzia's front leg.

The dragon turned her head to look in her eyes. "What do humans do, to face such a loss?"

Rose echoed her sigh. "I cannot say that we do well at it. We wear special clothes and withdraw from our normal occupations, which only makes me long for them-or any activity-all the more. I have my faith, which comforts me. I have my music, to express my grief, and I have my sewing, to keep my hands busy. I do not say it always keeps my thoughts busy."

"Hm. I do not have any of those, and I want to fly. I have not had my 10 minutes in the air today. Shall I carry you? You always wanted a ride when you were small."

"I would be pleased to do so, if I can borrow straps." Rose pulled off her pearl ear drops and unfastened the mourning brooch. Her mother's rule had been "No jewelry in the air." She handed them to Lil in exchange for a set of carabiner straps.

The dragon picked her up gently and set her in the captain's position. Rose struggled to sit side saddle and fasten herself in securely. Xenicas were famed for their speed and maneuverability in the air, but her mother had always cautioned Florenzia before she took Lil up. "Like a damned corkscrew, she is," Captain Blakeney had always said proudly. But today Florenzia drifted up, like the butterfly she resembled from very far away.

The dragon sighed. "Oh, what fun we are having. Go up. Spend 10 minutes flying in a circle. Go down. Wait anxiously for the chance to do the same tomorrow. Do you like the water?"

"Yes, please," Rose remembered to shout.

"I will go out a little ways over the Channel and pretend I am patrolling. Patrolling! I have complained so often about it; I would give anything to do so."

"I'm enjoying myself very much," shouted Rose, holding on tightly to the straps that held her in. Of course, the water below was beautiful, if one could manage to look at it without thinking of plummeting.

Florenzia raised her head to peer into the distance. "Who is that? Whyever so far from our shores?"

Rose could make out only a black speck in the distance, though it was getting bigger and closer.

"Why, it's a Defendeur Brave! How dare he come so close to England!" The gentle butterfly was gone as Florenzia flattened her neck and picked up speed. "I shall just show myself to him. He is probably bigger than me, but I can make him think otherwise. Cover your ears." She raised up in the air, beating her colorful wings furiously and screamed with all her might.

Rose, belatedly trying to cover her ears and hang on to the straps at the same time, remembered the other distinguishing characteristic of a Xenica: the wide-ranging scream, not so powerful as the Celestial divine wind, but definitely frightening as it trilled through several octaves, from a deep grumble to a piercing shriek.

The Defendeur Brave raised himself up and roared a challenge in return. Still shrieking, Florenzia lunged at him in her corkscrew dive. She ducked down at the last minute and came up from underneath to slash his belly. He squalled, covering Rose's screams.

His blood came down like black rain; Rose was almost glad to be upside down so as to only see it rather than be bathed in it. But Florenzia flipped around and changed direction several more times, the better to slash his sides, and finally Rose's dinner parted company from her-again fortunately, upside down, where only a small portion of it soaked her hair. She moaned, completely unheard, and lay forward and hugged the dragon's neck, intending to lie limp as laundry until Florenzia should quit. From some direction-she could no longer tell which-she saw another dragon. One of its riders was waving flags. "Florenzia! Florenzia, look. Another dragon! He says 'fall back, return.'" She pulled on the harness until Florenzia looked back at her; Rose shouted the message once more and indicating the direction with a quick flap of her hand.

"It is Temeraire!" gasped Florenzia. She dropped out of the sky. Rose retched again, without issue this time, and said her prayers as the ocean filled her view.

Then they were skimming along its top. Florenzia grapped a fish so unwise as to jump. She bit its head off and turned to face Rose, who shuddered at the blood and bits streaming from the dragon's mouth. "I think we shall get behind him in time, but cover your ears again."

As the deep roar swelled and swelled, Rose shuddered to her very core. The Defendeur cried in horrible pain and plummeted. He struggled up, but blood poured from his ears and nose. He could not keep aloft, though he kept making spurts of effort, bobbing in the sky, a big blue cork, sinking closer each time to the water as he struggled back to France. Rose could see his crew, like ants, scrambling up on his back. Finally he coasted down into the water and swam back towards France.

The enormous snake-like dragon eeled out from behind Temeraire. "Ha! Whatever is he doing here? I am going to see. Do not bellow at me!" she shouted to Temeraire.

"Oh, Isquierka is here too. We may as well go back home, with her around to claim all the glory." Florenzia managed to sound peeved, despite her breath coming like great bellows. She went up just enough to clear the pavilions and landed with a flop in the courtyard in front of her own home. Several men, clearly doctors, ran towards her shouting and waving instruments. They were concerned for the dragon, whom they coaxed to the stream to drink deeply.

Rose sat frozen, her hands still grasping the straps, until Lil scrambled up and disengaged her. More hands appeared to carry her down. She squeezed her eyes shut tight.

"Is she well?" She thought she whispered, but her words rang throughout the courtyard. "Is she well? Tell me at once!" She knew she hadn't spoken this time. She opened her eyes to see a huge slit of a blue eye close enough to touch.

"Be still, you troublesome beast," commanded one of the doctors. "You'll hurt yourself worse."

"I am well," Rose rasped. She tried to repeat it louder and put a hand on Florenzia's head. The dragon threw back her head and ululated long for joy, traveling through her full range several times. "My captain is well! She is well!"

"Matter of opinion, that," muttered Lil. "Are you unhurt, Rose? We do have doctors for humans somewhere around here."

"I do not know if I can stand, but I do not think I am injured," Rose whispered. A hurdle moved under her and bore her to Florenzia's pavilion.

"You will bring a doctor for my captain before I let you touch any other part of me," declared Florenzia from a few feet away; she tried to close the distance. Her bulk still in the courtyard, she laid her head on the pavilion floor. "Oh, my dearest Rose. I cannot bear it if you are injured."

"She's just fine," Lil assured her. "Covered in vomit, brains shaken to bits-just like anybody after their first battle on a Xenica. You lunk, it takes humans months of training to be able to endure your shenanigans."

"Not her pretty dress!" cried Florenzia.

Rose, in complete sympathy with this point of view, raised her head slightly to take a survey. "Maybe not. I was upside down for the worst of it." She felt her head and wrinkled her nose at the stickiness in her hair. She pulled away her headdress and sighed at its ruin. She flung it aside, earning Lil's curse as it splattered.

A new voice cut through the crowd. "Lady Rose! Are you hurt? How is Florenzia?" Emily Roland bounded onto the pavilion.

Rose mumbled something, and Florenzia said she was well, only worried about Rose. The doctors continued to scold the dragon about straining weak muscles.

Emily sighed in relief. She pulled flags out of her pocket and signaled across the courtyard to where Temeraire was being unharnessed. Cheers from dragon and crew rose. "That was our only worry-now we can rejoice. What do you think? A frigate was trying to sneak by to the ocean; the Defendeur was guarding her. Isquierka is leading her back in, with Minnow on deck. Imagine, a prize, right under our noses in the Channel!"

"Imagine," said Florenzia with a decidedly sour note.

"And you are to have a share, because you saw the guard and engaged him first." Emily said.

"Now I call that handsome," said Florenzia in a brighter voice. "I shouldn't have thought it of Isquierka."

"It wasn't Iskierka. It was Temeraire, and Minnow, of course, who said it should be so. We were so afraid that you wouldn't see the signal and get out of the way so that Temeraire could use the divine wind."

"I didn't see it," said Florenzia. "My captain saw it, and she told me it said to fall back and return. So you see, she will have a share too."

"Yes, only...How did you know what the signal meant, Lady Rose?" asked Emily, confused.

Rose became aware of the silence as they all waited for her answer. She rubbed her head, and was sorry for it. She stopped herself in time from wiping her hand on her dress. "I don't know. I saw the flags; I knew what they meant."

Emily cocked her head in bewilderment. "But that isn't possible."

Rose thought hard. "My nurse used flag signals, taught them to me when I was very young. Said she wasn't going to chase me all over the estate when she wanted to talk to me. And we children would climb trees and pretend they were our dragons. We waved flags to talk to each other. I never thought that they might be Aerial Corps signals. I just saw the flags tonight...and I knew." She closed her eyes again. "I should like a bath. In fact, I must insist on it."

Emily gave orders to a young aviator and told him to run. "They'll have it drawn by the time you get there. I'll go with you."

Rose tried to sit up. "I don't think I can walk."

"If you didn't hit your head or break a bone, walking is the best treatment for you after such a huge excitement, to work off the shakes. That with a big glass of brandy, and you'll sleep like a log." Emily pulled Rose to her feet.

"Florenzia..." Rose looked back at the dragon.

"I'll stay with her," said Lil. "Tell one of the couriers to hop over here to bring me back."

"Yes, I will." Rose took a deep breath and put her hand on the dragon's nose. "Florenzia, though I must always love you dearly, I cannot be your captain. I have no training, no abilities as an aviator. You must see that."

Florenzia sighed deeply and closed her eyes.

Emily pulled Rose's arm and guided her down the pavilion steps. "Come. Before you fall down-which you will when the terrors wear off."

"But surely-no one could expect or want me to be a captain. You understand, do you not, Miss Roland?" Rose begged, stumbling as she looked back at the mourning dragon.

"That's Lieutenant Roland. Or just Emily. And that's the difference between us, I suppose. I've never thought of myself as anything but an officer, and you never have. But strange things happen—no one (except their dragons, of course) would have picked Laurence or Demane for captains."

"But she is so sad! Heartbroken, first over my mother's death, and now at my...my betrayal. Whatever shall I do? How can I comfort her? But I cannot be her captain! I should endanger us all!"

"Whatever it is, you can do it tomorrow. Let me take you to the bathing room. May I get your dressing gown for you while you bathe?" Emily opened the door to another room in the same building as their bedrooms and beckoned to the servant. Rose forgot everything else as soon as she breathed the steam. She sank in the water over her head, soaking her hair. Rising for a breath, she heard Emily return, with much clanking about and begging the servant for a bath of her own, but Rose stayed as she was, eyes closed, until the water became tepid.

Bundled by the fire to dry her hair, she accepted dubiously a cup from Emily, who had already scrubbed and dressed again. "I don't know...what is this? It smells...strong."

"Rum punch," said Emily cheerfully. "Captain Laurence's special recipe, with his compliments. Just the thing to calm you down and send you to sleep. And what we don't drink, Sally would like to have, I'm sure, as a gift for our bothering her in the middle of the night."

The serving woman snorted. "Dratted Xenicas." She continued gathering towels and putting her kingdom back in order.

Rose warmed her hands on the cup. "Before I become too calm, I must ask you something. Perhaps you'll think it too intimate a service for our recent acquaintance-"

"Before I let you commit yourself to no purpose, I suppose I should tell you that I prefer men," interrupted Emily, her good cheer unimpaired. "Though I am honored, of course."

Rose stared at her until comprehension dawned. Her cheeks turned firey and she ducked her head, certain that she'd never be able to look Emily in the eye again. "Oh, Lt. Roland, what you must be thinking of me! How can I ever-it is not that at all. Only I must make myself a suitable dragon-riding habit, and you seem to be similar to my own size. I wished to take your measurements because it is so difficult to take one's own. But I do apologize for seeming to insult you." Rose drank half of the steaming punch in her cup and choked.

Emily laughed. "I daresay I should be apologizing to you-and I do, if it makes you feel better. From having people put their hands up my shirt when there was nothing to find there, I rush to conclusions and try to head them off early in the process."

"Such an insult!" mumbled Rose through another swig of punch.

"I'm not insulted-not by you, anyway. I have a great partiality towards people who ask first. But I will go get my measuring cord and take your measurements myself. I have frequently done so for my mother. And I can direct you to her tailor in Dover as well. He made my last set of uniforms too, and you wouldn't credit how much more comfortable they are! Lucky women like Harcourt and your sister-and me in my younger years-can wear men's uniforms with no trouble, but not those of us who are more buxom. Let me pour you another drink, and I will back shortly."

Emily bounced out of the room. Rose drank deeply again but jumped and choked when she found the servant Sally at her elbow. "Brung ye some biscuits," Sally said in a gruff voice as she slapped the plate on a side table. "Turrible rotters, all blokes."

Rose managed a wan smile before she stuffed a biscuit in her mouth. Then she stuffed in a few more in hopes that the crunching would distract her from the weeping that threatened. At the moment, she wanted to flee back to Wexley, even with her aunt holding court, just to find the world she knew again, where dragons did not fling you through the skies, where no one, servants or otherwise, intruded past the boundaries that Society decreed.


	2. Chapter 2

_Chiara da Luna, My Lady's Dragon_

_**My Lady's Dragon **_

**Chiara da Luna**

******Chapter 2**

Rose cursed the habits of a lifetime when her eyes opened before first light, or tried to. Her lids seemed gummed together by some dampness around them. When her father was alive, she'd always risen with the servants so as to have a long period of time to practice her music. She doubted that anyone had any expectations of her today, and she glanced across the room at her sister's sleeping form. She frowned at the gasping breaths Lil struggled to take. Clearly Lil was much worse than she pretended. Equally clearly she didn't want assistance. Rose wondered what the surgeon thought she could do for her sister.

She couldn't fall back asleep; so she dressed quietly in the dark. She found her music and sketch book and set out for the club room, where she'd seen a piano on her way to dinner.

But as early as it was, aviators rose even earlier, and they gathered around, interested, when she sat at the piano. She tried to oblige their requests, mostly songs that they could sing, but she could not call the efforts practicing as such. After a handful of songs, she made her excuses and went to the dragon courtyard.

She was secretly relieved to see it empty but for Florenzia, hanging her head over the edge of her pavilion. She wasn't used to multiple dragons, and even during her mother's visits with Florenzia, it had taken her a little while each time to accustom herself to just the one dragon that towered over her.

She walked quietly so as not to disturb Florenzia if she were sleeping, but the dragon opened one eye as she approached. "Are you well this morning, Rose? And your pretty dress?"

Rose ran forward to place her hand on the soft nose. "Very well, both my dress and me. You see how early I am awake. The dress had very little damage, and it looks as good as new after hanging in the steam room.

Florenzia sniffed and turned her head away. "You're wearing black again, as though you wanted to be on Temeraire's crew, though I like that brooch. Very dainty and delicate."

"I'm sure I never would want to be on his or any other dragon's crew," Rose said, in a soothing voice. I dress in black because I am in mourning for my mother. The brooch is for mourning too." She took it off and held it closer. "You see, there is a weeping willow tree over three roses, one for each of her children."

"And I am the weeping willow tree! Oh, dear Rose, how sympathetic you are! It is indeed a beautiful piece of jewelry. How I wish I had something to show my grief. I have jewelry, of course, that my captain gave me."

"Perhaps we could pick out something that does not sparkle very much. Mourning is a sober time."

"It all sparkles. I like it so."

"I am sure dragons may wear whatever they like."

Florenzia's eyes strayed back to the brooch.

Rose considered. "I have some black netting. Perhaps I could sew on some jet and pearl beads and make a sort of hat for you. Then you would have someplace to fasten jewelry such as a brooch."

Florenzia flicked her tail like a whip several times. "That would be very pretty. I should like it above all things."

Rose opened her sketch book and quickly drew some dragon-drapery. Florenzia shook her head over the first few and finally picked a very ornate turban style.

"That will take more netting than I have. Perhaps a shop in Dover will have some." She fell silent as she made more sketches.

"What are those?" asked Florenzia, cocking her head to see them better. "You've made them smaller."

"They're for me. Clearly I must have dragon-riding clothes. I do not ever want to find myself upside-side down with my hem around my neck again." She blushed at the memory. "I do hope Temeraire and his crew were not close enough to see me."

Florenzia laid her head on the pavilion floor. "Shall you ever ride again?"

Rose leaned against her. "I do hope so. I always have, although I never had any expectation of being your I could stay here awhile, to care for you and my sister. I thought to hire a maid for us, so as not to burden on the covert servants, maybe someone who could also attend you, though I don't know about the harness. Perhaps there is a blacksmith near by?"

Florenzia opened an eye. "Why should I want a maid when I have a crew?"

"Where is your crew?" asked Rose.

Florenzia put her head down on her front legs and tried to hide her face. "Some dead, some injured."

"Let me revise my question: Who are your crew? I will undertake to find those who survived. I am certain that they would be happy to do whatever their dragon wished."

The dragon raised her head, her shame set aside for the moment. "That is a very good way to look at it. Pray find my runner first. He will be very useful."

Young Mr. Parker was easy to find. Rose followed the bubble of shouts and screams. With her best Countess voice, she demanded, "Mr. Parker! Report to your dragon immediately."

The crowd of boys fell away, leaving Parker by himself. He rubbed his nose with one hand and slicked his hair back with the other. "You the captain, then?"

"I am not. I am merely assisting my mother's dragon in finding her crew. You may come explain to Florenzia why you have abandoned her."

"She said, 'Go away,' dint she? Said she was hurt and wanted to be alone. You gonna argue with a 12-ton dragon?"

"You can scarcely have thought she meant it forever. Report to her now to see if she has any tasks for you before she meets with the entire crew. But before you go, tell me where to find the harness master and the other ground crew."

"I'll take you there," Parker offered, trying to open his eyes wide enough for a cherubic look and succeeding only in getting dirt in them.

She didn't like to go into the forge, as hot as it was; so she called the harness master's name. When he turned, she covered her mouth as an exclamation escaped. The man had his left arm in a sling. Despite the warmth, she tripped forward, extending her hand. "Mr. Bard, I am Captain Blakeney's daughter. I hope your arm is healing well. Florenzia would like to meet with her crew at 3, to discuss interim duties while she and you heal. Do you have an assistant?"

He wiped his hands on his apron and took her hand between thumb and a finger, as though it were a china cup he feared breaking. "Aye, prolly find him at the Duck and Drake. Be ye the new captain?"

"Oh, no, I'm just assisting Florenzia and my sister while they're injured." She jumped at an especially loud clang on the anvil and almost tripped over a pile of heavy rope. Looking at it more particularly, she saw that it looked like a very large net, with the ropes in a grid-like pattern.

"Parker, throw that belly-rigging in the fire," said Bard. "Iskierka's runner left it there when I told him it's too frayed to mend. It'll never hold a ground crew in flight."

"Should you mind greatly cutting out a square, perhaps close to my height, and stretching it across a wooden frame of similar size?" asked Rose. "I believe Florenzia would have use for such."

Bard gaped in astonishment but agreed that he could do such a thing.

"I'll take you to the Duck and Drake," said Parker. "That's what runners are for."

Rose hesitated. "Very well. Then you report to Florenzia."

"Aye, Captain."

"Lady Rose."

"What?"

"That is how you address me. Lady Rose. Every time. Now take me to the Duck and Drake."

She stared at it in horror. Not only was it not the kind of place that she would enter, but she didn't want to know anyone that would patronize such a decaying, rank establishment. She removed her card, "Lady Rose Danforth at home," from her reticule.

Parker snatched it. "I'll take that in for you."

She held his shoulder. "If it's not a fit place for me, it's not a fit place for you."

"Why not? I been here dozens a' times." He wiggled away and darted through the door that hung on one hinge, the paint peeling away in large curls, formerly blue. "Hey, Chazzy. C'mere," he called before he disappeared inside.

Rose held her handkerchief under her nose to combat the even more rancid odors that spilled out of the building. A few minutes later a man stumbled out into the street. Possibly Parker pushed him or supported him; Parker definitely held him up as he swayed in front of Rose.

She refused to take a step back. She brought her best aristocratic basilisk stare to bear on him and said in her most frigid tones, "Mr. Charles, you will present yourself to Florenzia at 3 pm in a clean, sober state and explain to her your neglect of her and your other duties. You will then hold yourself ready to carry out any orders she and Mr. Bard have. You will present yourself to both of them at the start of each day clean, sober, and ready to work." She swept away, clutching her skirts close to keep them out of the dirty street."

"You want me to find the rest of the crew?" asked Parker as he ran to catch her up.

She didn't look back at the sound of someone falling heavily. "I want the lieutenants."

"Greevey, the first, he's dead, shot trying to help the Captain and then got bashed around till he broke. Hoo, riding that dragon was like being in a storm. Once we was on this transport-"

"Is there a second lieutenant?"

"Yeah, Martin, banged up almost as much as Greevey, but he ain't dead yet. Head bellman, he's dead. Line snapped in two. Musta been weak. Head rifleman broke his ankle or sumpin. Got a cane now."

"Suppose you direct me to Lt. Martin and then take the message to any mobile crew. And then-"

"I know, present meself to Florenzia."

"One more thing."

"Before or after?"

"After you first present yourself to her, but before the afternoon's meeting. Do you know where the fowls and peacocks are kept?"

"Hoo, yeah. That Sally, she's a terror, if you get near her chickens. And them peacocks is Lord Admiral Roland's special pets. No one's to touch them."

"I don't want you to touch them. But chickens and peacocks drop feathers, which I would appreciate your asking permission to pick up and bring to me. I should prefer feathers that have not been trampled in dung, and, I repeat, you are not to distress the birds or their handlers in any way. Do you understand?"

"Hoo, yeah. Bring ye some feathers. Martin's over that way, in the barracks." He waved a hand vaguely and sped away, leaving Rose to bite her lip in fear that he'd attended to exactly as much as he wished. She stared after him a few minutes, wondering if she should follow him on his appointed rounds.

Reflecting that it was sometimes better not to know details of how an order was carried out, she steeled herself to approach Lt. Martin by herself. She hesitated to enter the men's barracks, but she found someone willing to take him a message. When he joined her in the officers' club, she had to work not to stare. Martin wore a bandage around his head and around his arm, bound tightly to his chest.

"Lt. Martin, I am sorry to see you injured. Will you be able to join the crew to meet with Florenzia this afternoon at 3?"

He regarded her insolently. "And who might you be?"

Not used to being addressed in that tone, she lifted her chin as she rose to her feet. "I beg leave to present myself. I am Lady Rose Danforth, Captain Blakeney's daughter, here to assist my sister and Florenzia, who bids me to assemble her crew."

Martin's expression did not change. "I do not see how I can possibly attend, in my current weakened state."

"After three months?" asked Rose with equal amounts of skepticism and sympathy.

"Head wounds are no trifling matter," he replied in a stiff voice. "And were it be aggravated by riding a twisty Xenica, I could not answer for the consequences. I do not know when I shall be able to resume my duties."

"Martin, you're just in time. Join us for cards?" called another officer from across the room.

With a thoughtful glance to his would-be card partner, Rose said. "I would not impede your recovery for the world. I shall inform Florenzia that you are quite unavailable for some time to come—do I have that correctly, sir?"

"Rather," said Martin. "Let someone else get their brain box shook to bits."

She drew on her gloves. "Our—Florenzia's, Captain Blakeney's, and my—best wishes for your recovery, sir."

She flung herself across the compound in a red haze and almost ran into another officer, this one several inches shorter than she.

The young woman in Aerial Corps uniform leapt backwards rather than be plowed down.

"I do beg your pardon!" exclaimed Rose. "I was not attending at all."

"Not at all, Lady Rose," she said. "I was hoping to run into you, but not so exactly. I don't know if you remember me—Lavinia Dane."

Rose had cocked her head, puzzled at being so addressed by a stranger, but she then smiled and put out her hand to shake the other's warmly. "Lavvy! Of course, I remember you, though I might be hard put to recognize you. How could I forget my best opponent in our dragon-tree games? I cried for a month after you went into the service. Tell me, do you still intend to name your dragon Biggatorious?"

Lavinia laughed. "No, though I hear that my young brothers and sisters still call those oaks Biggatorious and Florenzia. I did want to ask—if I should get my step someday-I should like very much to name my dragon Rosabelle, after your mother, if you would not take offense. She made it possible for me to enter the service and always took an interest, sent me a guinea on Christmas and my birthday, and even 5 pounds in her will—I don't feel I could ever be grateful enough…" her voice trailed off in embarrassment.

Rose, who had written the letters and included the guineas for all the young aviators from Wexley from the time her mother deemed her writing suitable, replied instantly, "My mother would be honored, and so would her children." And the rest of her family would never know, she added to herself. "But what if your dragon is male?"

"Rosario, I think," said Lavinia. "I am so glad you do not mind. I thought of Wexley or Blakeney—but perhaps the rest of the family would not care for that, and I rather like Rosario better anyway."

"I believe you have made the correct choices, and I hope you will get to carry through with one of them."

"I have just made lieutenant, passed my exams this week," Lavinia said, not without a great deal of pride.

Suitably impressed, Rose congratulated her. Indeed, it was no small feat for a tenant's daughter, with only such schooling as the village dame school and the notoriously casual Air Corps could provide.

"And I should like to ask, that is, to be considered, if Florenzia should need another lieutenant…" Lavinia swallowed and began again. "There's no place for me now on Orchestia; she has a great many lieutenants already. Captain Graves gave me leave to try to find another place, and I hope that I could be of service to Florenzia, if she should have a vacancy."

"I am not her captain, but I will certainly give your request to Florenzia. She is injured, you may know, but she certainly has a place for at least one lieutenant, possibly more. But you might prefer to serve on a dragon on full duty."

Lavinia grinned in undisguised glee. "Thank you, Lady Rose! I am truly grateful! I should be happy for a place anywhere, but especially Florenzia. Do you remember how she gave us rides around Wexley when we were small?"

"I do, and I remember that only you and Severin—do you recall the vicar's son?—had the courage to ride with me. I was ever so glad! My nurse always said she'd drop me in the duck pond if ever I acted afraid—'You're a captain's daughter, aren't you?' she'd say. But every time Mother came to visit with Florenzia, I was terrified all over again. I am indeed glad to see you again doing so well, and I will bring your plight to Florenzia's attention."

Meeting her old friend smoothed some of the sting of the encounter with Lt. Martin, and Rose was able to meet the rest of the crew with firm cheerfulness. At three, the remainder of the crew duly assembled on Florenzia's pavilion. Florenzia regarded them sadly. They did seem to Rose to be a motley, damaged lot. A glance stolen at her sister's face confirmed her in that opinion. Lil stood a little ways back from Florenzia's head, as not quite the captain, her arms folded across her chest. Rose stood behind Lil, almost back to the wall. Florenzia bowed her head low for a few minutes, then raised it high and drew her forelegs in, sphinx-like. "My dear crew, I am desolate at your obvious suffering, and I humbly beg your pardon for my neglect of you in the oblivion of my grief. I can only promise in the future to attend to your well-being as you deserve, as my captain would have wanted."

As she warmed to her theme, she twitched and fluttered her wings like a lady's fan and shifting from one leg to the other as she twirled her forelegs at the wrists. Rose covered her mouth to suppress a giggle and leaned forward to whisper to her sister. "She's Sally Jersey to the life!"

"Who's that?" whispered Lil back, out of the corner of her mouth.

"Oh—someone I knew in London," Rose replied, sorry not to share the joke. She reflected that the restless, chattering Queen of Society had never been described so carelessly. Rose hoped Lady Jersey would never hear of it.

"You may have heard that my captain—my captain's daughter and I were instrumental in capturing a prize earlier this week. I intend to share it among you, as though you had been with me, as you would have been but for the sad events of the last battle."

Her audience visibly cheered.

"Although Providence has seen fit to deprive me of not only one captain"—she sniffed in critique of Providence—"I would ask that you resume your duties as far as you are able. Those of you who are school age must resume your studies." A collective groan choked off as soon as the dragon leaned over to glare at them close range. "Somehow, too, we must arrange for you to be trained in the Chinese way, seeing that I cannot join in the morning drills with our guests from China," she said with deep dissatisfaction.

"We'll ask if they can go up with the other British dragons," said Lil. "Each could take at least one of your crew and get some training that way."

"That is an excellent idea," said Florenzia. "I shall write Lung Hong Lan directly. And in the evenings, when I take my 10 minute flight, you all shall come with me and tell me what you learned that day."

Now the older crew looked just as apprehensive as the young ones, an expression that did not abate with Florenzia's continued praise. She dismissed them with exhortations to be good students, to do their captain proud. But they left purposefully, leaving Rose to feel sad and invisible, much as she had after her uncle and aunt descended on Wexley after her father's death. Of course, everything was happening as it should: Florenzia regaining her interest in life and putting her crew back to work, her sister involved, as she was at the moment, talking to some of the senior crew: the juniors had run off the minute Florenzia dismissed them.

Rose sidled along the wall, the better to leave unobtrusively, though she had no clear idea where she would go, just away—away from people who had a function and were performing it. She put her chin up, determined to rejoice that Florenzia and Lilias were recovering and she could look forward to returning—no, that was too much. She could not look forward to returning to Wexley under her aunt and uncle's regime, even to rejoin her little brother Basil. She drew a shuddering breath and hurried into the dragon courtyard.

"Rose, where are you going?" called Florenzia. "Lil wishes to speak with you."

Rose dragged her steps back to the pavilion.

Lil coughed into her handkerchief for a minute. "Just got the mail before the muster." She coughed again. "Heard from Ma's solicitor." Apparently coughs were to serve as periods. "We need to go see him."

"Whatever for? He wrote to tell me what her will said," said Rose. "And most solicitors call on their clients."

"Most clients don't live in a dragon covert. We can go by post to London tomorrow, on Friday, and see him the next day. He spoke of final settlements. Maybe he's finally got the figures on her last prize money. He wanted to see you, too. Ma left instructions for the division to be explained to you, preferably in person. And her jewelers sent me a letter some weeks ago, too, saying that she'd had something there to be picked up, but of course no one would let me go by myself."

"If you are going to the jewelers, do keep an eye out for something I would like," said Florenzia. "A nice mourning pin, like the one Rose wears, that would be favorite."

"What would you pin it to?" demanded Lil. "Yes, we will get a bauble for you, greedy monster. Cranston & Riddle are close to the London covert and always have something for dragons," she explained to Rose.

"I wish to suitably display my mourning status," said Florenzia with dignity. "Rose can pick out something suitable."

Lil snorted. "I'll leave the task to her then."

It was impossible not to be cheered at the thought of London, though Rose suspected that the aviators did not patronize the parts of town that she knew. But there were Florenzia's decorations to be purchased, and she did long to ask questions about the odd division of her mother's property.

"I must write a letter to the Chinese delegation," fussed Florenzia. "But I do not know how I shall manage. My lieutenants used to write for me when my captain could not, and now I have no lieutenants."

"Martin will be back when he's recovered," said Lil. "And you don't need to write a letter. We'll just go over and ask them."

"I do not want Martin back," said Florenzia with a low growl in her throat. "I never wanted him, but I gave in to my captain's wishes. I knew when he was openly rude to Temeraire that he was not the kind of person I wanted on my crew, and you see I was correct. He was rude to my captain's daughter: I will not have it. But I will have a letter written. Civilized beings express themselves in writing. Temeraire says so."

"That dratted book!" said Lil, with an extra cough for scorn.

"Why don't you tell me what you would like your letter to say? I will write it down like I used to do for my father," offered Rose.

Florenzia perked up. "That would be very nice. And afterwards could you make a fair copy of it in copperplate? There is to be a section for letters in _Writings of the Dragons_, and Temeraire says business letters are just as appropriate as personal letters."

Lil said, "Ma always said you were more the earl than he was."

Rose pushed back a stray lock of hair and frowned. "When he became ill, naturally I helped him as much as I could."

"You ran the whole estate, Ma said," Lil averred. "I would have thought our uncle would have been lost without you."

"Our uncle," Rose snapped, almost spitting the words, "prefers to do things his way." She tried to recover herself. "I am sure that everyone will get used him in time, and certainly one person's methods may be as good as another's."

"Maybe, but I doubt it," said Lil, not very clearly.

"I am sure that you were a lovely earl," Florenzia said. "I feel fortunate that you can assist me, though I have not so much property or people to manage as an earl. You will find some paper and ink in the desk here. My captain often sat there to write letters, much nicer than being shut up in her bedroom to do so." When Rose was ready, Florenzia cleared her throat and dictated, "'Honored guest, Happy was the day that Heaven's generosity brought you to Britain's shores to instruct us in your venerable arts of war, that we may defeat once and for all our common enemy, who does threaten the entire world. I sit desolate that my own injuries have prevented me from presenting my respects to your honorable self and receiving the blessings of your most excellent instruction. In expectation of my return to health and my duties, I beg that my crew be allowed to attend on the backs of other dragons and participate in your wise lessons, that they, my valued attendants, may progress in knowledge and skill even as I progress in health, and that they may then bring me this knowledge, more precious than rubies.' Did you get that, Rose? You dropped your pen."

"I am not quite used to this pen," said Rose, leaning over to retrieve it. She tried to catch her sister's eye, but Lil was leaning against the wall and grinning at the ceiling, some thirty feet up. "If you would start again after 'venerable.'"

Florenzia repeated her words exactly and finished with "I bow ten thousand times to you and have the honor to remain, etc." Rose reflected that someone would need to translate anyway, and surely that person would not bother with all the verbal flourishes.

Florenzia squinted at her page. "That is very handsome writing, much better than my lieutenants. I do not know what I shall do for lieutenants. I must have at least two. There are many duties to be managed." Her mass of curly tendrils drooped.

Rose remembered her old playmate's request and told it to Florenzia, who fluttered both her wings in anticipation.

"That is an excellent idea," said Florenzia, tips of both wings quivering. "I should be happy to have someone my captain sponsored as my lieutenant. In fact, dearest Rose, if you were to make a list of all the Corps members from Wexley, I am sure it is no more than my duty to look after them. Temeraire says it is just laziness for dragons to care only for their captains. I should take them all for my crew."

"Handsomely over the bricks, Flossie!" cautioned Lil. "You want to see what they're like—including Lavvy Dane-before you commit to them. Picking crew ain't to be done in pig's whisper."

"I shall certainly give the matter my careful consideration," replied Florenzia with great dignity. "Now, Rose, we will write to Orchestia, to see if she can spare Lavinia to me." She whispered confidentially, "You can write on human-sized paper. Orchestia cannot read a word. Her captain will read it to her."

"She's just out on patrol," said Lil. "You can talk to her tonight."

Florenzia raised a wing and shook fanned herself rapidly. "I am a civilized being," she declared. She closed her eyes again and went sphinx-like. After a few minutes, she opened her eyes and recited, "My dearest Orchestia, Fair was the day and bright was the sky when first we met. I rejoice in your continued health. You have no doubt heard of my losses, which have left me desolate, despondent, and sadly lacking in crew. Having understood that your midwingman, Lavinia Dane, has lately made lieutenant but has no such vacancy to fill in your crew, I should take it as an honor and a favor if you were to consider permit her to join my crew as second lieutenant. I trust that you would tell me truly if such an arrangement were not pleasing to you or if you did not judge her as suitable for the position..."

Rose copied as fast as she could, each sentence more florid than the last. When Florenzia was done, she had Rose read the letter back to her. She added a few more adjectives and compliments before she allowed the letter to be folded to send. "You will make a fair copy?" she asked.

Rose promised and made notes on another piece of paper so that she could reconstruct the letter for the fair copy. As she prepared the letters for delivery, Emily hailed her from the courtyard. Rose blushed, but thankfully, Emily seemed totally unconscious of their misunderstanding of the previous night.

"Hallo," Emily called as she lept onto the pavilion. "Is everyone well after last night's adventure? No wings strained, Florenzia? What do you think? Taking a prize right in front of our covert! Lady Rose, I've just been talking to the washerwoman, right snippy she is that I've ruined yet another pair of trousers—too split to mend, she says, as though she paid for them herself. Anyway, I thought you might like to have them as a pattern, if you still hold to your intent to make your own dragon-riding costume."

"Whyever would you do that?" asked Lil, astonished.

"Yes, why?" asked Florenzia.

"I thank you, Emily," said Rose, rising and taking the ragged trousers from her with some embarrassment. "I am happy to have them as a model. I have started making sketches, but I admit that I do not understand precisely how to make the bifurcation." She faced the others with high color in her cheeks. "I am never getting on dragon back again with the possibility of finding my shift around my neck before the end of the ride. I have never been so ashamed in my life. That others—men-might have seen me!"

"Well, they didn't," said Emily. "No one could make out anything, as far away and as fast as Florenzia was moving."

"And you could just buy a pair of trousers," Lil pointed out.

"You relieve my mind, Lt. Roland, but I am still not going to take the chance," said Rose. "And as I am not an aviator, it is neither appropriate or legal for me to wear trousers. I plan to make a bifurcated garment with full legs to resemble a skirt when I am standing on the ground and to preserve my modesty in the air.

Florenzia nudged Rose's shoulder as gently as she could, which still sent Rose stumbling against the desk. "I am very sorry. Of course, I did not think of such matters at all. I am honored that you will go up with me again—you are making preparations to do so."

Rose's response was lost in the shriek from the peacock pen, much louder than the bird's usual complaint.

"Maybe one of the ferals is eating it," said Lil cheerily.

"I don't want to have to tell Mother," objected Emily.

Rose's brows drew together as a suspicion crossed her mind, but she stayed silent out of possible guilt.

19


	3. Chapter 3

_Chiara da Luna, My Lady's Dragon_

_**My Lady's Dragon **_

**Chiara da Luna**

******Chapter 3**

The next day Rose packed a small bag, for they would surely have to stay overnight in London; it would take them most of the day to get there by post. Lil grumbled about it taking an hour by air, which Rose acknowledged to be an advantage, but the whole process was so reminiscent of trips with her father that she could scarcely contain her excitement. Her father had had the gift of turning the most ordinary of days into celebrations, To ride in a carriage for a day and bask in his undivided attention! Surely she and Lil would enjoy a similar time and forge their bond as sisters, which Rose acknowledged they had hardly ever been able to do, with their shared life consisting of quick visits and letters, Rose providing most of the writing. But on such a trip, they could finally talk and plan for the future.

She did not bring up the topic immediately, but gave herself over to the enjoyment of gentle swaying of the coach and remarking on the countryside, heavy with impending harvest, as she recalled all the trips to London with her beloved friend and father. How fast the time had gone! How they had laughed! Soon they must be approaching the little inn that offered such delicious little cakes while the horses were changed. She saw a thousand markers that brought up fond memories, each to be lovingly cherished.

"Will this miserable slough ever end?" exclaimed Lil. "In the future, if I can't go by dragon, I shall stay at home."

Yanked back to her present company, Rose said, subdued, "Perhaps we should have brought a game of traveling chess."

"The only thing more boring than staring at vegetation is chess," complained Lil, through coughs.

"I do not care for the game myself," admitted Rose. "Dragon chess is much more interesting."

Lil combined a cough and a snort for commentary. "And these wretched skirts! How do ladies ever get anything done?"

Rose mentally girded her loins for battle. "But will you not have to wear skirts when you leave the Corps?"

Lil stared at her, pop-eyed. "Why ever should I leave the Corps?"

"Your health. Your physician was most insistent." Rose rummaged through her reticule for the letter that had brought her pell-mell to Dover. She handed it to Lil and tried not to fidget as her sister plodded through the letter—one page, with lines not even crossed.

The aviator mouthed the words silently until she reached the end, when she slammed the paper on the seat beside her. "Hanson's an old woman, and you're an idiot to believe him."

Her cheeks flushed, Rose retorted, "An idiot, to believe your medical advisor, who describes your health in such terms that made me fear for your life? What else do you think could bring me here, leaving our brother in care of our aunt?"

"I wouldn't leave Aunt in charge of a cow intended for a dragon meal the next day. So I've not the slightest idea why you posted down here."

"I thought it my duty to care for you in your illness. I was surprised to find you out of bed at all." Rose pulled at the drawstring of her reticule. "I thought perhaps we might hire a house in Tunbridge Wells. We could afford that, with what Mother and Father left us."

Lil stared in horror. "Tunbridge Wells? Lord, Rose, why?"

"It is a salubrious location, and we could live more comfortably there than Bath, which is more expensive. And we would be closer to Wexley. Our brother could visit us sometimes, and we him."

"What in Heaven's name would we do there? Polish the furniture?" Lil shook her head.

Rose fell silent for several sways of the coach. "Of course, Italy would be best for you, but it is difficult to find a way there during the war. Perhaps Uncle would allow us to live in the Dower House, though I do not hold much hope."

"Better and better! We could polish the furniture _and_ watch the turnips grow! Put all these schemes out of your mind, Rose. Nothing will make me fit for Society, and I've no intention of trying at my age. I thank you for your concern, but the Corps will put up with me, even if I have to work in the kitchen. And you said yourself I'm much healthier than you expected. I could make a full recovery and take the place I was born for or at least bred for." She fell in a paroxysm of coughing that ended conversation for some time.

After they stopped for the charming little teacakes while the horses were changed, Rose asked in a low voice, "Will you tell me how Mother died? The letter just said 'in battle.'"

Lil hacked something that could have been partly a sigh. "I didn't see, you know. I was busy being fried on a French ship. I was told that a stray bullet hit Ma in the chest, just an accident of war: The French cannot have meant to hit her. No one tries to kill a captain. The dragon goes insane. Her first lieutenant—Greevey, you know-tried to help her, and he was shot, though he lingered a bit. And Flossie went into a fury, despite a nasty wound in her wing joint. After your ride the other night, you can imagine. The crew just hung on, couldn't even pack her wound—some bright person yelled until he convinced her to go find me, only there I was, part of the boarding party on a French ship, only shortly thereafter Isquierka set it on fire, not realizing that we were there—another accident of war, and they happen frequently around Little Miss Flame Breath. So we're trying to evacuate everyone, but the smoke gets too much for me, and one of the middies tries to drag me out of it. At this point, Flossie spots me and, if you can imagine, goes into a worse rage. She yells for the middie to tie ourselves to something, and she starts sweeping water onto the ship with her tail, which starts putting out the fire, but, Lord, the steam! She picks up one of the rescue boats, dumps the people in her belly rigging and uses it to pour water over the masts and sails. She snatches me up as soon as she can get close and drops rope for the midwingman to make secure to the ship. Then she tugs it toward shore, only it gets tangled up with another French vessel—she drenches it too, to wet all their powder, and loops it a few times to drag it along too. She pulled them into harbor, mostly on one wing by that time, at least very lopsided, and let the ropes drop when there was someone to secure them. She sat still long enough for everyone to get down, shaking off the last few stragglers. Then she took off again, Ma's body in her claws, flying a wide arc because of the injured wing, which was streaming blood like the Thames. Usually when someone dies in battle, we cut their straps and let them fall in the ocean, but Flossie wouldn't have it. She came back alone later, walking, wing dragging, and lay on her pavilion, not moving for days, no matter what the surgeons did to her.

"Greevey swore on his deathbed that Mother had been alive and directing the ship captures. No one contradicted him, of course: it made them all in line for prize money. That's part of what the solicitor wants to tell us: the final accounting." Lil leaned back, exhausted, as though she had fought the battle all over again, and breathed heavy, as though trying to catch breath through smoke.

Rose managed a strangled "Thank you." She stared out the window with her lips pursed into a tight line, her eyes open wide and determinedly dry.

The next morning found her wholly giving into her senses, as she hung onto a lamppost outside the solicitor's office. "Thirty-eight thousand pounds," she whispered. "My mother had thirty-eight thousand pounds."

Her sister hovered anxiously. "And you and I each get three-eighths, with Flossie and our brother get an eighth each. Your share is—"

"A bit over fourteen thousand pounds, which added to what my father left me is sixteen thousand pounds, which yields slightly over 800 pounds per year." She held the post tighter as her head swam.

"So you're a maths genius in addition to everything else? Come on, Rose, you can't marry that lamppost. Not of your station at all."

Rose squelched her eyes shut to make the world stop spinning. "Every girl ever displayed on the Marriage Mart can make that calculation."

Lil pulled an arm over her own shoulders. "Come along, now. Walking will help, I promise. You're in shock, like the other night. This is a good shock. Ma always said that you'd have no trouble getting married if you had ten thousand pounds."

Rose let herself go limp enough for Lil to pull her along. "My old pony could get married if she had ten thousand pounds. Why should I want to get married anyway?"

"It's what you were bred for, isn't it? To be some lucky man's Countess? Or lady. Or missis, as the case may be. Here, down this street a ways."

Rose tripped on a cobblestone; they both lurched forward precariously, but Lil pulled them both upright at the last second. Rose continued, as though in a dream, "I was presented when I was sixteen so that I could be married before Papa died; he wanted me to be provided for. He died the summer afterwards, though, and then I wanted to be married so that I could offer Mother a home when she retired. Why should care to be married now? I can buy my own house. And a companion, I suppose, if you won't live with me. Dear God, not Cousin Sophie, please!"

"Aren't you supposed to fall in love or something of the sort for the continuation and betterment of Society?" Lil steered her around the mess in the streets.

"Society may go hang."

"Quite right, m'girl. Here, into this jeweler's shop with you. Cranston wrote me that Ma ordered something before—before." Lil put a hand between Rose's shoulder blades and shoved.

Rose stumbled inside and smiled in a general way to the room. In the City on the side nearest the covert, like the solicitor's office, it was not a fashionable shop, but respectable and clean. Rose crab-walked sideways to let Lil through. As her sister hallooed the proprietor, Rose turned to the display cases, the one nearest her being full of odd items, some that she could not imagine how to wear.

"Rose, come look at this thing," called Lil. "This here's my sister, Cranston. Lady Rose Danforth. No, I should say, 'Lady Rose, may I present Cranston?' No, that's not right."

Rose cut through her sister's confusion and threw precedence to the winds. "I am pleased to meet you, sir. Thank you for your service to my mother."

"Honored, I am sure, my lady. My deepest condolences to you both. I have been privileged to serve Captain Blakeney—all the Captain Blakeneys—for many years. I think you and the intended recipient will know how to value her last commission to me."

He gestured to his assistants, who brought forward what looked like a large box, almost as tall as Rose. She exclaimed as they opened it wide into a double portrait; she'd never seen a cabinet painting so huge. But of course it had to be, for the dragon eyes for which it was so clearly intended.

The gilt and bejeweled frames made her blink and kept her eyes from the subjects for some moments. When she could focus on the paintings themselves, her eyes blinked more rapidly.

Lil snort-coughed. "As though Mother ever wore a dress like that in her life."

"Oh, but she did," said Rose, surreptitiously dabbing her eyes. "At my court presentation. And when she was presented as a bride. She wore the same dress, made over."

"I wonder how anyone could move in such a turnout, with those lace skirts as wide as a church door and all those feathers."

"Wider, some times. One must practice for weeks, to manage the hoops and feathers." Rose managed a tremulous smile. "I am so grateful that she had this portrait made."

"It was painted from an engraving for a book," volunteered Cranston. "It looked much the same, with the dragon on the left and Captain Blakeney on the right, bowing to each other, as it seemed. Her dragon was very taken with it, and your Mother had the paintings made and framed as a gift for her."

"The dratted dragon book," agreed Lil. "The center engraving, with Ma called 'The Countess of Wexley, long-time patroness of the Aerial Corps' to keep anyone from finding out about female captains. Such stuff!"

Rose smiled again at the pairing. Florenzia and her captain were portrayed out of scale, with the dragon scarcely larger than the lady and her ostrich plumes. Both nodded towards the center—to each other, as Cranston said, Lady Wexley over her fan, Florenzia over a fan-like wing, looking even more like a Society lady. It was impossible not to be amused.

"You've done a bang-up job with the jewels and such, Cranston. We will be happy to pay for it. Florenzia will be in alt over it, will she not, Rose?"

Rose could only nod.

Cranston shook his head with vigor. "My dear Lt.—no, it must be Captain Blakeney now—you mistake. Your mother has paid all that was necessary, sent the final payment on that unhappy day. Best to do so before a battle, she said. Truly, nothing further is owed."

Lil eyed the plump little man. "You're a liar, Cranston. I hope it may not break you."

He drew himself up to as much height as Nature allowed him. "I will be happy to show you her final words."

"Oh, I've no doubt she wrote and sent money. What I do doubt is that it was the final payment. Ma never paid full price for anything except on delivery. But that's your lookout, and I thank you on behalf of Florenzia."

"And for your consideration of us," said Rose. "We take it as a mark of respect for our dearest Mother and are much moved. Perhaps you could show us other wares. You have some curious items; I quite long to hear about them." She gestured towards the cabinet that had first caught her interest.

"Cranston's quite the dragon jeweler," said Lil as they moved toward it. "Smart move, being so near the covert. All these things are for dragons—the big collars, long chains—and look, talon sheaths. Temeraire brought some back from China, all silver and gold. All the dragons are wild with envy."

"How pretty they are! And how cunning—they look like dainty lace gloves," said Rose as she stooped to examine them. Cranston shook his head. "Ah, but they don't sell, my lady. My friend, who is blacksmith, made them, but they have not taken, not at all."

"Of course not," said Lil. "Not a bit of sparkle on them. No dragon ever wanted plain black iron."

"But they are perfect for a mourning dragon," argued Rose. To Cranston, she asked, "Would it be possible to add a few small pearls, perhaps?"

"An excellent idea, my lady," enthused the jeweler. "Pearls sprinkled through the lace, and may I advise diamond chips as well, not so large or many as to violate the mourning note, but enough to catch the eye of the fastidious dragon. I will see to it myself on the instant and deliver them to the covert today."

"The cost," began Rose doubtfully, thinking of how late in the quarter it was and how little money she had left.

"Florenzia could buy half the treasury," said Lil. "And would be happy to. A few pearls and the sweepings from the gem cutter's floor ain't going to bankrupt her."

Cranston named a figure that much relieved Rose, who did not want to spend the dragon's capital or to place out of reach another purchase. "Perhaps, if I make a drawing, your friend could make a small tool for a dragon."

He provided paper for her sketch and contributed suggestions to her original idea. Rashly committing the blacksmith to the enterprise, he then ushered them out the door with many bows and thanks, promising again to have everything later that day. He assured them that Florenzia had an account with him, so that no monies were immediately necessary.

"How odd to think that a dragon has an account at a jeweler," said Rose as she craned her head, searching for a hack.

"She has a bank account; she can have accounts with merchants," said Lil.

"I never knew."

"You didn't need to. But I've been the second trustee since I was of age, British law not allowing dragons to own anything, any more than they'd allow cows to have capital. And Mother always insisted that there be at least two trustees, which is why you're pressed into service now. You don't mind?"

"Why, no. I am happy to do something for Florenzia," replied Rose. "And I promised her that I would buy some fabric, beads, and such for her. Shall we summon a hack to take us to Harding, Howell, & Co? We must have some little time before Mr. Cranston delivers our purchases."

Lil agreed, but it was clear when they drew up in front of that shopping mecca that she had never been there before.

"Good Lord, Rose, why ever would you come here?" she whispered as they pushed their way through hordes of shoppers.

"Because it's not as crowded as Grafton House," Rose whispered back.

Lil moaned and clutched Rose's arm so as not to be swept away in the crowds. Familiar with the layout, Rose made her purchases with alacrity, having decided previously what she needed and what she could afford, but Lil did not seem to appreciate her efficiency. They relaxed in a tea shop-not Gunther's, because Lil had had enough of the fashionable world, but in a very good shop closer to the covert.

Through slurps of an ice, Lil said, "I'd sooner walk through the dragon feeding grounds at breakfast. Some of those well-bred dames would have stuck a shiv in you if they'd had one when you took all those beads. Too bad we couldn't have had Flossie with us."

She agreed afterwards to rest, which she did while Rose examined her purchases and worked on her patterns in her sketch book. As she further disassembled Emily's britches, the better to draw pattern pieces form them, she caught herself humming, as she frequently did while she worked, but she stopped herself, in consideration for her sister. The day, she realized, had been pleasant, almost like a day in London in her previous life, without the onus of an evening party after a full day of activities. Parties could be pleasant, as a treat, rather than a constant obligation, but she preferred her days to be spent with congenial companions, even if the activities were mundane. After such a day, she was encouraged to think that she and Lil might become such companions.

She looked up from her contented reverie a few hours later at the sight of Lil at the window.

"I say, Rose, do you really want to go to dinner? We ate like pigs at the tea shop."

"Indeed. I am happy to accompany you, if you feel like eating more, but I had thought of asking to have soup brought to the room. It is too late to start back to Dover, even if our packages were here; I should prefer to spend the evening sewing, if I can get some work candles."

Lil forced her voice hearty through the hacking. "Excellent idea! I'll find a servant and tell her to send over some soup and candles. For myself, I see an old friend just arrived who will surely invite me to dine, if you can call a meal in a pub dining. You wouldn't, I know. You can come if you like, but I don't think you would like it at all."

Clearly shut out, Rose, baffled, replied, " Oh, no. I am sure you are right. And if you feel able and rested, it would be pleasant for you to see an old friend."

"Yes! That's it exactly. Stuck at Dover, I never see anyone else but the aviators there. If you're sure you don't mind-" The door slammed behind her.

To avoid feeling deserted and puzzled once again at her sister's seeming health, despite her near constant cough, Rose took out the old dress that she planned to sacrifice into a pair of riding pants. By the time dusk crept in and packages, candles, and soup had arrived, she was deep in her project and happy to be able to continue without the tedium of a formal meal. She had learned, over the years and the demands of her days, to work in small bits on her own interests: it was a luxury to have long hours to do exactly as she wished.

The guttering candles and her aching muscles from so long a focused activity brought her to realize the lateness of the hour. She looked doubtfully at her sister's empty bed. Surely she was safe, in the company of other aviators, but Rose had no notion of how to find her. Exploring the pubs around the covert in the middle of the night by herself did not seem the best of plans, and such was her only clue. "Her friend will care for her," she said to herself, picturing how furious Lil would be to be hunted down by her younger sister. She said it again as she forced herself into her nightclothes and into bed, and she repeated it like a prayer until she fell into an uneasy sleep.

13


	4. Chapter 4

_**My Lady's Dragon **_

**Chapter 4**

She was startled awake some hours later, in the soft light before full dawn, by someone fumbling at the door and then stumbling across the room. "Lil?" she called in alarm.

"Sh'alright. G'back to shleep," mumbled Lil as she fell on her bed.

With the smell of strong spirits wafting through the room, Rose's fears for her sister's health were in one way assuaged. She lay still until loud snores and accompanying coughs came from the bed where her sister lay, fully clothed, though the skirt seemed all akilter and likely dragged through the detritus of the street. Then she rose silently and tended to the dress and duties of a Sunday.

After services at a nearby chapel, she dismissed the serving maid that she'd hired to accompany her, made a spare meal from the covert kitchens, and returned to her room. She found Lil pressing a wet cloth to her face.

"Be with you in a few shakes," mumbled her sister. "We can start back for the covert any time."

Rose picked up her sewing. "No."

Lil peeked under the rag. "Not going back?"

"Not today. It's Sunday." Rose kept her eyes down.

"Yes. So?"

"Like any good Christian, I am not in the habit of Sunday travel. No emergency compels me to start. No doubt you would be happy to rest an additional day." Rose felt her lips tighten in disapproval. Just like Aunt, she thought desperately.

The only sounds came from outside the room as dragons and their captains came and went.

After a few minutes, Lil said, "Stupidest thing I ever heard. But yes—I shall go back to bed."

The day dragged on, the grayest of Sundays, until late afternoon, when a commotion in the courtyard caused Rose to look out the window, where she sat with her stitching.

"Florenzia!" she gasped. She threw down the black former dress and ran outside as her sister heaved a groggy "Huh?" from the bed.

Just landed, Florenzia thrashed about the open area, with the little courier dragons and people giving her wide berth. She flapped one wing furiously while the other dragged the ground. "Lil! Rose! Tell me where they are! What has happened to them? I demand that you produce the children of my captain on the instant!"

"No, Florenzia, no!" Rose ran straight at the enraged dragon, both of them heedless of any danger.

"Rose?" Florenzia zoomed her head down close to Rose's face.

Rose stroked the soft nose. "We are fine, truly we are. Oh, it is my fault! I will never forgive myself if you have injured yourself. I did not want to travel on a Sunday. That is all, I swear. I would not have insisted had I know how worried you would be?"

"Flossie, you idiot." Lil staggered out of their room. "You didn't fly from Dover? I wish you may not have done a permanent injury to yourself. What, I ask you, could have happened to us?"

Florenzia shook her head until her tendrils danced on their own. "Anything! Anything! I couldn't bear to lose you both. The thought drove me wild. I had to come find you."

Rose pressed her cheek again Florenzia's forehead as the dragon ducked even lower to nudge Rose's chest. As Rose stumbled backwards, the dragon clasped her in a light, but possessive grip in one forehand. Rose murmured, "So sorry. So sorry. All my fault."

"Stuff and nonsense!" Lil rubbed her head, still in pain. "If anything had happened-even if we could not be located-can you believe you would not have heard long since?"

Florenzia drew herself up. "I perceive that you have been whoring again, Lil. You know your mother does not like it. It is not, after all, as though you were making eggs, for which there is some excuse."

Lil scowled. "I'd like to know what business you have-or my mother-in prying into my personal life. I should not call a bit of comfort with a fellow officer whoring at all, and considering how little comfort I have or am likely to have, it's beyond enough to have you preaching Methodism at me."

Rose raised her head to shout. "I must have a dragon surgeon on the instant! Fetch one at once," she directed to the crowd, which reluctantly dispersed from the interesting scene. Eyes blazing, Rose twisted to face her sister. "Your conduct has been appalling, to put it no higher. You did not tell me that Florenzia would worry so, the only reason that could have moved me, and since our stay was at least as much to accommodate your wages of sin, you may return to your bed and try to recover."

Lil's eyes popped in disbelief. She shook her head, as though in disbelief, but appeared to regret it when she held her temples and moaned. She recovered enough to sneer, "Yes, your ladyship." Carefully she turned and walked away, as though each step hurt.

"Florenzia, here comes the surgeon. Do come to the pavilion and lie down for him to examine you. We must make sure you have taken no lasting hurt. Surely the dragon owns the pavilion will be willing to help you."

Meek as a chastised terrier, Florenzia obeyed. "There will be no problem. It's everybody's pavilion. Lord Admiral Roland asked the ministers' wives if they would help pay for pavilions, and they first wanted one built in London so that they could see it. So they did, and despite all, it is very handy for the couriers, who have no place to call their home, and those of us who travel to London occasionally. Oh, do give over," she snapped at the surgeon who kept poking her. "I'm not dead yet."

She sighed and closed her eyes as the surgeons climbed over her, gave contradictory directions, and finally settled on a treatment, which seemed to be that she should lie still under an enormous warm cataplasm that took three men to put in place. Rose took the opportunity to return to her room to retrieve the previous day's acquisitions. After a glance around the room, she said to her sister's supposedly sleeping form, "Lil, I am going to spend the night in one of the pavilion bedrooms next to Florenzia. I will take all our purchases and send some men to bring the portraits to her."

With an answering cough, Lil turned toward the wall and pulled the blanket over her head.

Florenzia crouched down, wings folded tightly against her body, a disgruntled expression on her face as she tried to draw her head away from the foul-smelling poultice over her wing joint. But she forgot about her ills when Rose showed her the spoils of shopping. Her uninjured wing flapped out and quivered. She was sure the jet and silver beads would make handsome decorations, and she insisted on putting on the talon sheaths at once, which meant that she couldn't immediately try the new device that Rose had made for her.

"It's a dragon needle," Rose explained. "You put the rope, that is, the thread, through this hole and put the end on a talon. You push the needle through onto your talon on the other hand. At least, that's how I conceived it. I had Mr. Bard make an embroidery frame out of belly rigging. I will draw a design on it when we return and see if we can dye rope and cable in different colors."

"Why, Rose, how very kind!" Florenzia removed a talon sheath from each hand so that she could practice the motion of embroidery. "I am sure that I will enjoy this activity very much. I have not heard it if a dragon has tried embroidery before. And what is this? Yet another present?"

Four men heaved the portrait cabinet in front of her. Rose unfastened the clasps so that Florenzia could open it.

"It's not a present from me. We only caused it to be delivered."

Florenzia paid her no mind at all. She stared at the laughing Countess so long that Rose became uncomfortable. "It was at the jewelers, who decorated the frame. I trust you like the gilt and jewels."

After a moment, Florenzia answered, "Oh. Yes. There are jewels, are there not? Yes, quite nice." She shook herself and winced as the wing pained her. "Now I can look at her forever. My dearest captain, dearest Belle. Oh, Rose, do not leave me tonight. I am so sad that I do not know how to bear it. But I am so happy to have this painting, a last token of her regard, and almost life-size too."

"Of course I will stay with you," said Rose. "There is a bedroom directly across from you."

"There should be a palette on the bed, if you would care to sleep on my foreleg, like my captain used to when we were on the march." Florenzia's eyes pleaded.

Rose hesitated only long enough to say, "I do not care to parade about in my nightclothes, but if you will hold your good wing out to shield me, I will arrange myself and the palette on your leg. I am sure that will be modest enough."

"Certainly," said Florenzia, her eyes traveling back to her captain's face.

When Rose was settled for bed, she lit a candle and set it beside her on the pavilion floor. She fell asleep with Florenzia still regarding the painting but drowsed awake when the candle guttered out. Florenzia sighed deeply as she shut the cabinet and pulled it under her other foreleg. She laid her head on top of that leg and, as far as Rose knew, did not stir the rest of the night.

The next morning, Florenzia nudged Rose awake before first light, so as to be on the road to Dover before full dawn.

"You'll never fly!" exclaimed Rose.

"No." Florenzia sighed. "I shall trudge along the road, and so we must be on the road very early, in hopes of avoiding most of the populace. Is that your riding habit? It is very handsome."

She actually galloped in a long, graceful paces, gathering herself and leaping forward and up. Rose was glad they had skipped breakfast; the sensation in her stomach was something like being in a small boat going over large waves. She tried to ignore the sensation of her new habit against her skin. She was pleased with its appearance, but she didn't think she could ever bear to wear it again.

"Flossie, you've got your wing out," accused Lil. "No flying, not for me, and especially not for you, after your antics yesterday."

"I can't fly with one wing, but if it should happen to catch the wind, I'm sure one could not call it flying," said Florenzia with some dignity. "I do not think that gliding is likely to hurt ."

But it wasn't long before she folded the wing and kept closer to the ground. Rose wondered if she should suggest stopping for a rest, but it appeared that Florenzia was merely thinking and not paying attention to her pace.

"You will find that I have not been idle," she said. "It is all arranged: The dreadful Martin is to go to Actinius, and Lavinia Dane is be my second lieutenant. She did very well on her first mission, very well. You will be pleased, Rose, to have your harp and all your other things from Wexley."

"You never flew to Wexley!" scolded Lil.

"No, Lavinia did, on Requiescat. With four men from the crew, to carry. I told Requiescat that he could eat as many deer as he wanted. And the oldest swan," added Florenzia darkly, hinting at old grievances.

"That swan has attacked every child at Wexley!" Rose said.

"I am told that the children cheered as Requiescat swallowed it," said Florenzia with satisfaction.

"But, Florenzia," worried Rose. "The deer and swan belong to the king."

"And Requiescat is the king's dragon," Florenzia pointed out. "There has been no theft. All the king's property is in the king's other property, or rather, servant. Dragons are not property at all. In fact, as Requeiscat surely visited the compost midden before he departed, all the king's property remains in place, just transformed in its nature."

Rose felt this line of reasoning was wrong, but she couldn't untangle it at the pace they were rocking along. "And my aunt allowed all this?"

"Not being used to heavy weight Regal Coppers, only my petite little Xenica self, half the household fell into hysterics, and the other half fainted. I am not sure which group your aunt joined, but no one offered any resistance or comment at all. Lavinia borrowed a dress from Sally and pretended to be your maid, and the men loaded your trunks and harp. They would have gotten clean away but for your little brother, who declared that he was the son of a captain, and he would ride this dragon. So Lavinia took him up for a turn around the park on Requiescat's back and then spent the afternoon at her parents' house. She also brought back a maid for you both, a likely young girl from Wexley who has been in the Corps for several years. My captain intended to promote Parker to ensign—he would have been promoted long ago, but he kept getting into trouble. So we shall promote him and engage Cadet Molly Meadows as our runner and your maid. She was visiting Wexley for her brother's wedding, which is how Lavinia came to meet her. They all returned to the covert by supper. All very neat. I am very pleased with Lt. Dane. Also, I have had the pianoforte moved to my pavilion so that you may practice whenever you like, Rose. I shall quite like to hear you. I am very fond of music."

"Oh! Should you have done so? The piano was for all the covert," asked Rose in fresh anxiety.

"No one had any objection, when I assured them that I should be happy for anyone who wished to play or sing should do so whenever they liked."

"Probably glad to have more room for the billiards table," said Lil.

"I believe that advantage was mentioned," agreed the dragon. "I also would like you both to live at my pavilion, and your surgeon says you may, Lil, if you are careful not to overexert yourself. Someone can carry you to meals or bring them to you."

"Like my wishes mattered," muttered Lil. Louder, she said, "Just don't put me in Ma's room."

"If you should not mind," said Rose, "I should like very much to be in Mother's room, though I quite understand if you wish to keep it as she left it."

Florenzia made a sound like purring. "Not at all. How untidy that would be. I should like for you to stay there, Rose. Now, Lil. Would there be any chance that you might have a child after your night's raking? I have been considering my situation, and I believe that it will work well if you should have a child to be my captain."

"I doubt, hope, and pray not," snapped Lil.

"Well, you can try again. For a father, there shall be no problem. Temeraire and Isquierka are most anxious that their captains begin breeding. After all, they have done their duty by producing an egg; Granby and Laurence should do likewise.

Rose covered her face with one hand to hide her flaming cheeks, but Lil replied as casually as she had to the discussion of the opera. "Love to, old thing, but the medicos tell me I'm not to do anything of the kind—I've pretty much wrecked my health, and there's no certainty that the child or I would survive."

"Oh! I would not for the world put you in danger. It must be very different for humans. It matters not- Rose can produce the eggs."

"Oh, no! I could not! Please—do not!" Rose spluttered. "I'm sure I should die of shame."

"Nothing could be easier," the dragon assured her. "I have only to mention it to Isquierka, and the thing is done."

"This," agreed Lil," is really true."

"You cannot—I cannot—" Rose floundered. "Lil, you must explain."

Lil shrugged and grinned. "I'll try. Bit difficult that: As Flossie points out, the dragons are commanded to mate for the Corps' convenience. It seems fair to them to ask the same of their captains."

"My captain was always very delicate about it. She said it should be my choice, that I should not be obliged to mate with any dragon I disliked." Florenzia sighed. "And she of course did her very best to arrange a future captain for me. It is not her fault at all that we are come to this pass."

She seemed likely to fall into grief again, but Lil patted her neck and distracted her. "Now, I shouldn't wonder if Laurence would be a better choice for Rose. He has been raised very traditionally also, being the son of a lord. And, Flossie, you must know that traditional British surround their mating with ritual."

Florenzia nodded. "That is very good, then. Isquierka is excellent at devising rituals. She created one to betroth Granby the Sapa Inca, which was very handsome, from what she tells me, and no doubt Granby would have married the Sapa Inca, had Bonaparte not interrupted the ceremony."

"Isquierka's skills won't be necessary," said Lil. "This is how it goes: First, whatever the reality, the proposal must seem to be Laurence's idea. He applies to our parents—well, we can skip that part, and he can apply to Rose herself. She must give the appearance of never having thought of him or any other man, but upon hearing his words, she realizes all the advantages of the match and instantly falls in love with him."

Florenzia snorted. "Are all human rituals this dishonest? I cannot think it good for their society."

Lil continued without answering her. "But before they commence making eggs, they apply for the blessing of the Church and the government and promise to make eggs with no one else. The government also makes rules about the sharing and division of their property."

Florenzia turned her head to look earnestly at Rose. "I advise you to enter no such agreement with the Church and government. Your eggs—and your property—are none of their business. Imagine mating with only one person in your whole life!"

Rose opened her mouth to explain, but shut it when she could not think where to begin.

In a severe tone, Florenzia declared, "It seems to me that when we have reformed human society for dragons, we must also reform human society for humans, as they appear to do such a poor job for themselves. But that is for the future. For now we must settle our own affairs. The more I think about it, the more I think that you should take both Granby and Laurence, Rose. Surely at least one girl must be born out of all those eggs."

Rose felt faint and swayed in her seat, though she clutched her carabiner straps tight.

Lil had mercy at last and stopped laughing and coughing long enough to tell the dragon, "Rose ain't in the Corps, or I'd say that's a fine idea. As it is, because she's not in the Corps, Rose would be cast out of her society for bearing children with two men and no marriage. I agree with you about marriage, but for a woman not in the Corps, it's about the only way to secure her future and keep her and her children from want. For Rose to fly in the face of all convention would bring her the gravest censure and an uncertain future—or rather, one certain of want and loneliness."

"This is true," whispered Rose.

Florenzia shook her head until her tendrils danced like snakes. "You must be funning—how could society be so unfair?"

"It mostly is," said Lil.

"I have no notion why we spend so much effort to preserve it then," said Florenzia, returning to gloom.

Conversation was desultory the rest of the trip. Rose felt despondent that it seemed she could not oblige Florenzia in the slightest matter—not that becoming her captain or having children for her were small matters.

Arriving at the covert with no damage to livestock or property on the way, Rose did her best to admire the harp and pianoforte, with the trunk of her music sitting between them, as much as Florenzia might like. She was offering advice on the best place to hang the portraits when Emily scrambled up.

"Hah! Both of you! Exactly what I want. Lil, I need the skirt. Good heavens, did you get dragged backwards through a bush?" She caught the skirt when Lil threw it and tried to shake it out. "There's no help for it. I have to have a skirt to go to Dover. Rose, will you come with me? I'm off duty this afternoon, and I thought to go buy a dress for the opera. I want to practice wearing it enough so that I can spend the evening listening to music rather than worrying about skirts."

Rose agreed, pleased at a shopping trip and at Emily's confidence in her taste. Eying the wreck of a skirt that Emily yanked over her trousers, she offered one of her own dresses, but Emily declined, saying that she'd prefer not to borrow something that she might ruin. Rose brushed the abused clothing as best she could, and changed from her own bifurcated skirt into a dress.

Emily exclaimed that she couldn't tell that it wasn't a skirt. "Do you like it, then? It works well for riding a dragon?"

Embarrassed, Rose answered, "Tolerably well, as far as modesty goes, though I find it a bit uncomfortable when riding."

"Ha! You need drawers."

"Indeed, I do not think that pantalettes..."

"No, drawers like men wear, to protect your tender parts."

"I can't purchase men's underthings!" Rose was aghast.

"Can't you? I'll do it for you then."

Still appalled, Rose accepted the offer meekly. In short order, she and Emily were bowling down the lanes toward Dover in the covert's carriage, drawn by the decrepit horse she had seen on her first day at the covert and another just as ancient. As they had no paces to speak of, their chief virtue must have been their lost sense of smell that let them tolerate the dragons.

Thinking to purchase a dress to match her jewelry, Emily brought with her two necklaces, one of pearls and the other of garnets. Rose agreed that pearls were always appropriate and looked well with most clothing. The garnets would be more difficult to match but would be more unusual.

Emily giggled. "I'd like to wear the garnets, especially if Lady Allendale, the captain's mother, makes one of our opera party. She gave them to me, and I was mystified why she should do any such thing, but Mother told me that Lord Allendale, having met me at our first subscription party and hearing that I had lessons every day with his son, decided that I must be the captain's by-blow—it was the drollest thing. You could imagine how mortified he was, but it was better than exposing me as an aviator. So Lady Allendale started dutifully taking an interest in me as a granddaughter. Later she met me and Mother when we were in uniform, on the march to Scotland. I think she was disappointed to learn the truth."

Rose could vividly imagine Captain Laurence's pain but she smiled a bit to placate her friend. She wondered if she'd ever get used to the casual and frank discussions of the aviators.

She found a modiste by dint of asking a servant in the smart shop where they took tea. Madame Cerise was a French emigree, and she had many suggestions for the garnets, mostly in French, accompanied by much hand waving. Rose approved of her taste, also in French, and Emily nodded in fascinated ignorance, both of the language and of fashion.

"I've traveled around the world, and I can translate for you on every continent—but not in French," she whispered. "I am feeling very stupid."

But when Rose forced the discussion to English, Emily professed herself also bewildered by the choices put before her. Finally the colors (fawn and pink) and fabrics (silk trimmed in lace) and styles had been determined, and Madame named a date for completion some weeks in the future.

Emily's face fell. "But I had hoped to take it with me, to practice wearing at dinner."

Madame had the very thing, a dress that had been made but not taken, only waiting for the discerning customer. Rose immediately spotted the problem, a fault in the dye. Bright beyond jonquil, but lacking the dark cast of evening primrose, the vivid yellow was far more than most milky debutantes could handle. But for Lt. Roland, with toasty brown skin from the wind and sun, sandy hair streaked even lighter, and above all her glowing, confident personality-"Emily, you must have this dress. It could have been made for you," Rose said earnestly.

"I allow as I like it well. Such a nice length," said Emily, examining the flounced hem.

"Ca c'est drole! Mademoiselle makes the funny! To wear a three-quarter dress without a petticoat!" chuckled Madame.

Emily's face fell as the minions produced a plain ivory petticoat for her to try under the dress.

"It is true that Miss Roland must have her hems as high as may be without immodesty," said Rose as she perused Madame's swatches. "She must walk across a dusty courtyard to dinner."

Emily beamed and squeezed Rose's hand before being whisked away to be trussed up in dress and petticoat.

"The very thing!" pronounced Madame. "We shall gather the hem like so, You perceive that it is shorter, but fools the eye to be longer."

"The very thing!" agreed Rose. "Oh, Emily! It is truly beautiful!" She held up two fabric swatches. "What color would you like for an underdress? This Pomona green is very nice, and this interesting peach color would complement your garnets."

Emily showed her leadership skills with an instant decision. "I shall have one of each, one as plain as possible—the green, I think—and the peach as decorated as possible. Delivered as quickly as you may."

While her assistants pinned the hem, a hit-or-miss proposition while Emily twisted and turned to see herself better in the mirror, Madame tapped one of the swatches that Rose had been examining. "This violet would be assez-charmante for you in half-mourning. Perhaps you would wish me to make it? The cost, a matter most amicable. "

It was a handsome fabric. Rose pulled a swatch of her own from her reticule, a frosty lilac nubby silk, whose yardage was still packed in her trunk. She was glad that she hadn't cut it yet; Madame's sample dresses had given her new ideas. She hated to pass up the discount that Madame was obviously offering, but she didn't need a second evening gown for half-mourning. "Perhaps an opera cloak, to go with my dress."

It was her turn to stand up for measurements, while Madame chattered about the most delicate tucks that would set this cloak beyond the ordinary.

Emily thought she should need an opera cloak also. "Just like yours, Rose, only, only..."

"Fawn," said Rose. "No tucks. One ruffle at the bottom."

"Yes," agreed Emily in complete incomprehension.

After such effort, they needed more refreshment. Emily led them to a shop where they nibbled on ices and planned a campaign against the rest of Dover's merchants. They then assaulted the shops for slippers, fans, gloves, reticules, and other feminine inessentials, including the promised drawers that Emily acquired, as promised, while Rose waited outside, cheeks aflame, and Emily informed the shopkeeper that the purchase was for her poor, sick brother.

Dusk was setting in as they climbed back in the carriage. In the fading light, Rose showed Emily how to carry and handle the fan, and the miles flew quickly by as they laughed at each other's imitations of Society ladies. Emily groaned at the idea of a "language of fans," but, having studied signaling since she was seven, she quickly picked up the new language. "Only I can't ever imagine wanting to say such things with a fan," she added. "If I liked someone—or didn't!-I could find a much more direct way to let him know."

"But at least you can avoid saying things when you don't mean them," Rose said. "That's very important too."

Emily chuckled. "Yes! Why, once in Australia I practically promised to marry someone, all unbeknownst to myself. If I can find some way to hold the fan so as not to say anything at all, that would be perfect." She set it aside and drew out a rather flat box from the array of packages. She sounded almost shy. "I do appreciate your help today, Rose. I hope it's not improper to offer this gift to you."

Rose exclaimed before she opened it. "Oh, Emily, how could kindness be improper?"

"Half a dozen ways at least, I expect," Emily said. "Society has rules about everything, and I know none of them. But open it, do. I thought you quite liked them in the shop."

Rose's hands trembled slightly as she pulled the ribbons loose. She gasped when the lid came off, revealing the pair of delicate lavender gloves that she had coveted while Emily bought pink kid gloves for her own dress. "Exactly what I wanted!" She fumbled in her reticule for the frosted lilac swatch. "Look how well they match my dress fabric! I fully intended to go back for them after next quarter's allowance is paid. How very, very kind of you! We shall be quite a fashionable pair at the opera."

Emily looked relieved and pleased. "I am so glad you like them. I-"

At this point the carriage lurched forward, throwing them both to the floor. Rose snapped the glove box shut. She threw it on the seat as she reached in the door pocket for something, anything, to use to defend herself. Her hand closed on a pistol, with powder and ball blessedly near.

"Stand and deliver!" shouted a rough voice over horses neighing and hooves pounding. A hand holding a pistol stuck through the window. Rose answered by firing her own upwards. The man screamed and then grunted as she shoved the door open with all her weight behind it while she grabbed the staff from under the seat. The highwayman was a mess, blood streaming through the hand he held to his head. As he reached for the pistol he'd dropped, she brought the staff down on the back of his hand hard. She jumped to the ground and kicked the pistol out of his reach. It went off harmlessly.

An answering shot from the other side of coach told her that Emily had found a pistol in the other pocket. A neigh stopped suddenly, followed by heavy thumps on the road. "Drat," she said. "I got the horse. Stupid pistol throws left."

Her voice was covered by the boom of a flintlock from the coachman's seat. "Well done, Jack," Emily shouted. "He's down. But Lady Rose—Rose, are you well? Has he hurt you?" She barreled through the coach and out the other side where Rose held the other highwayman's pistol pointed at his bleeding head. He had not dared rise, but remained huddled on the ground, clutching his right hand next to his chest.

"You've blown my brains out," he moaned. And broke me hand."

"I do beg your pardon," snapped Rose. "I was aiming at your hat. I grazed your scalp, that's all. You should be ashamed of yourself, attacking defenseless women on the road."

"I was going to ask if you needed help," said Emily over his mutterings that defenseless women weren't what they used to be.

"Yes, I do. I wish you would reload the pistols. I cannot do it with one hand and keep this fellow covered."

Jack the coachman clambered down and aimed his rifle at Rose's captive. "There's rope in the carriage."

Emily retorted, "There's everything in the carriage, including a flare. You set it off, Jack, and I'll go see if the other's dead—and take the rope.

Rose jumped when the flare went off, brightening the twilight sky, but she kept her pistol trained on her captive.

The other man hadn't run far. Emily marched him back, bound and staggering, a few minutes later, and shoved him down close to his partner.

"We need a magistrate," said Rose. "And bandages. This one's bleeding worse."

"No bandages in the carriage," said Jack.

"However did you overlook that?" asked Emily. "This carriage has enough for a siege."

Rose looked down at her dress. "I am not sacrificing my clothing for these cowards. Emily, do you take the scissors from my reticule and cut some strips off that horrible skirt you are wearing."

Emily went for the scissors, but remarked. "All the women in the covert share this skirt."

"It's the ugliest thing I've ever seen. I will gladly replace it from my own wardrobe. There's a bronze green skirt that my aunt gave to me out of her closet; I never liked it above half."

After Emily pulled the last bandage tight, she took the rope and hobbled the highwaymen's remaining horse. Rose raised her eyebrows, but all was explained when tiny courier-sized dragon (still taller than the horses) fluttered down beside the carriage.

"Hallo, 'allo. What have we here?" she asked, cocking her head to one side as though to view the scene from another angle.

"Hello, Minnow," shouted Emily over the screaming men and panicking horse. "These scrubs tried to help themselves to our purses, and we must get them to a magistrate, Rose says. Myself, I'd rather blow their heads off, but someone might object." She stepped close to say in a low tone to the dragon. "And I'll give you half this dead horse to eat if you'll not mention this event to Temeraire and Florenzia."

Minnow considered the horse. "Fresh killed, is it? I suppose the cooks will be wanting to mess it up in a stew. Well, Devastatio will be along soon, and his captain can deal with these human laws and customs. The harnessing takes a bit of time, you know. So I came ahead to rescue you," she said with virtuous pride.

Emily snorted. "You mean to nose out what you could, you gossipy beast. And now that I think of it, you may have the whole horse if you won't tell Excidium either."

Minnow shook her head. "Ah, me pippin, that I can't do. For Temeraire gives me a sheep and Florenzia a goat to keep me eye on their crews. And Excidium gives me a piglet to watch out for you."

"I call that a fine thing, when dragons spy on you at every turn," protested Emily, indignant. "We might as well be at a Bath seminary."

Consoling, Minnow said, "Now, there, a piglet ain't much. I only keep one eye on you for Excidium's sake."

"But surely a horse is more than a sheep and a goat," Rose argued, fascinated at this exchange, but keeping an eye on her prisoner, now curled up even tighter, gibbering prayers and pleas to his mother.

"But you got only one horse, and your dragons have many sheep and goats," explained Minnow as though she were reasoning with a toddler.

"At least minimize the danger and assure them that we've taken no hurt," begged Emily.

It was Minnow's turn to snort. "Where's the story in that?" Ah, here's Devastatio. I shall leave the human dealings to them while I take this horse back to the cooks to make something tasty." She grabbed it with her forelegs and was gone before Devastatio had properly landed.

Leaving their captives with Devastatio and his captain, they resumed their plodding journey back to the covert. Minnow had been as good as her word: Florenzia was kneading the floor in anxiety by the time Rose arrived with Emily, who hoped her captain would calm Temeraire before she presented herself.

"Please do not fuss. I should dislike it very much," begged Rose as she offered Emily a seat on the sofa.

Lil paced at the pavilion's edge. "Fuss? When you have been held up?"

"Yes, but we are unhurt, which is more than can be said for the criminals, and the law has them in hand. Only bring some tea, and I shall be perfectly recovered."

Florenzia lashed her tail, knocking over the writing desk. "What can a magistrate do? They shall answer to me! The very idea, attacking my captain's daughter! It is not to be borne."

"The magistrate shall punish them as the law allows." To Florenzia's growl, seeming to indicate a poor opinion of the law, Rose said, "Civilized beings do respect the law and its machinations."

Florenzia lashed her tail again, sending a chair into the deep water bowl.

"Besides, she shot one of them in the head and broke his hand with a staff," said Emily. "Damn pistols are worthless. I shot one of their horses by accident, and Rose was trying for his hat. Just nicked his scalp, though."

As Florenzia swung her head around in astonishment, Lil popped her eyes open wide. "Shot one in the head..."

"Come now, you act as though such a thing had never happened before," said Rose. "Is anyone going to prepare tea?"

"Has it not?" demanded Florenzia, her tone disapproving. "My captain and I thought you safe at Wexley. Perhaps we should have kept you with us."

Rose winced a short smile. "It is more dangerous than you'd think to ride about the roads with only your nurse for company, and after the first time, when I huddled in the corner of the carriage and cried like a little girl-which I was—Meggy, my nurse, said I should learn to defend myself. She knew a great many ways to do that, and Papa taught me to shoot, of course. After awhile, word got around, and people weren't attacked near Wexley any more. This is my fifth, no, sixth time to be held up on the road."

"Not quite the work I thought you were bred for," said Lil.

"Defending myself and those under my protection?" Rose retorted. "I should think I am. In medieval times, I would have run the estate and led the army while my husband was away, and husbands were always away." Abandoning hope of being served, Rose went to the tea urn.

Florenzia called over the compound. "Isquierka, give us a bit of flame, do, to heat the water for tea."

Emily smiled. "When we were on the march, covered in mud, blood, or both, Lil would say, 'My sister is serving crumpets and tea in a silken dress with ribbons in her hair. Now she is mincing along a bridle path, riding her little pony side saddle. Today she has her music lesson and tomorrow her dancing lesson.' We thought you grew up setting stitches in a parlor."

"Yes. I did," Rose said.

Lil shook her head. "Must be more dangerous than I thought."


	5. Chapter 5

_**My Lady's Dragon **_

**Chiara da Luna**

******Chapter 5**

In the silence between them all, Lt. Lavinia Dane's footsteps rang loud on the parquetry floor.

"Hullo, Lavvy," said Lil. "My sister and Emily have been fighting highwaymen. Have you ever heard the like?"

Lavinia nodded. Her wide grin made her freckles dance across her round face. "Oh, yes. Just like she and Miss Meggars used to do around Wexley. My mother would write me every time they brought down another one. All the tenants was right grateful to them for making the roads safe. I promise, I was jealous with rage—here I was, sitting at school or running meaningless errands, with all this excitement going on at home."

"Where was her father during all of this excitement?" asked Florenzia, still disapproving. "I understood that he was to protect her."

"Lord love you, Florenzia, there weren't a highwayman daft enough to hold up the Earl," replied Lavinia. "No matter how rich he was. And they knew he wasn't rich and wasn't likely to wear any jewelry worth the risk. And after awhile, they wouldn't hold up women or young men either, because it might turn out to be Lady Rose and Miss Meggars. Something fierce, they were. I don't know as I was so very surprised—I fought many a battle with Lady Rose on our dragon trees when we were children, and she won, often as not."

Rose made an embarrassed gesture and leaned her face on her hand to hide her confusion. "I think—I am quite sure—that Meggy meant it so, to trap them. My father began to suspect and said as how he fancied there would be no more holdups. I don't know how-"

"Of course she did. Told everybody, she did. By the time the Earl stepped in, a baby and a crippled Granny could have held a picnic on the road without harm. But I don't mean to keep you up when you must be exhausted," Lavinia said to Rose. She then carefully aimed her words directly been Rose and Lil. "I only wanted to explain how I came to suggest Molly Meadows as runner, hoping I wasn't being too forward."

Lil waved a dismissive hand. "As Flossie's lieutenant, of course you can recommend anyone you like. Flossie says this girl is to be our maid—like we need one. The girl will probably not be best pleased about that."

"But she will," said Lavinia. "That's how I came to suggest her. Florenzia wanted to engage a maid for the two of you, and when I went to Wexley, I fell into conversation with Lizzy Meadows, who is Molly's sister. She's in service as a lady's maid, and Molly's declared for some time that she would like to do the same. Only—well, she's the fifth daughter, and her family was happy to send her to the Corps and be spared her upkeep. She does very well in school, but no one's picked her as a runner, because she's always saying that she's going to be lady's maid. So I thought maybe she could be both and perhaps, Lady Rose..."

"Certainly," said Rose, jerking herself straight with a start. "I should be happy to provide her with a recommendation, if she persists in her wish. I suppose there's no difficulty for her to leave the Corps?"

"No, only most people don't, because of having no training to be anything else," said Lavinia. "I will bring her around tomorrow afternoon. Good night, and thank you, Emily and Lady Rose, for your defense of the Dover roads." With a salute and a cheery wave, neither precisely directed at anyone, she was gone.

Emily took her leave likewise, and Lil rose abruptly and went to her room, a small one in the back of the pavilion. Rose bid Florenzia an abstracted good night and slowly approached her mother's room, a large one near the front of the pavilion.

Someone had changed the sheets on the bed, for which Rose was grateful, but the rest of the room looked untouched. A small desk in the far corner, under the lone window, looked out over the courtyard. Rose automatically picked up the clutter—the dried pen, a copy of La Belle Assemblée from the month of her mother's death, an unfinished letter. Rose saw her own name at the top of the page; this would have been her mother's last letter to her. It talked of sleeves and the political musings in La Belle Assemblée. Her own last letter lay near by, covered with tick marks in her mother's handwriting, with similar marks in her mother's copy of the magazine; thus her mother had kept track of what she had answered, or perhaps intended to answer from Rose's letter. Rose had no idea how hard her mother had worked at their correspondence: Captain Blakeney's letters had always sounded so breezy and spontaneous: "By the by, Rose, did you see the hash in the House of Lords? A pretty way to go on, I don't think. The party will be lucky to maintain its hold."

A pretty cloisonee box lay open on the desk, a box full of letters tied with pink ribbons, of all things. Rose would have sworn that her mother didn't own a ribbon, much less tied up correspondence in that manner.

One letter lay on top of the others, folded but released from its captivity. Rose unfolded it while justifications to read correspondence not addressed to her ran rapid fire through her brain. Her favorite, that perhaps this letter required an answer, died as she recognized the handwriting.

"My dearest Belle," wrote Rose's father, "I beg your, Florenzia's, and the nation's pardon, but you must come to Wexley, whether it be convenient or not. My end cannot be far now, as you can see from my wretched hand, for which I apologize, and you cannot wish our darling Rose and Baby Basil to be alone at such a time. Rose now writes all my letters for me, but I cannot give her such a commission as this one.

"So please make all haste to come, as soon as you receive this. I should wish you to choose any furniture or furnishings that you would like to have, and that will be more easily accomplished if I am above ground."

Rose paused to look at the desk, its familiarity now explained. It had stood in her mother's apartments at Wexley. She returned to her father's last written words.

"Not knowing how much time I have left, I want to be sure to tell you that you have been the most wonderful wife I could have imagined. I do not know why God created me as I am—though you may be sure that I soon will demand an explanation—but I do know that no man was ever so blessed in his wife as I have been. Each of our children is a treasure.

"I have arranged in my will for Miss Meggars to continue as Basil's nurse..."

And though she seized on the excuse that she must make sure her father's wishes were carried out, she found that she could not read further. She carefully folded the letter and replaced it in the happy little box with its bright flowers and curling dragon. The unfinished letter to herself she folded and put under the pillow. Though the day had been full of excitement—or perhaps because of it—Rose found sleep elusive. She stared into the dark, at a loss. She was used to put herself to sleep by imagining the house she would someday live in. First it had been a house with some shady figure of a husband in the background, where she could welcome and care for her father, a house that resembled Wexley in many ways and sometimes was Wexley, when she decreed that said husband should reside there. Later she had imagined a snug little estate (again with the undefined husband) where she could welcome her mother in that lady's retirement. The grounds were always extensive, so that Florenzia could visit them, or perhaps in the far future, live with them. After Mother's death and the surgeon's letter, Rose focused on the little house she would share with Lil in sisterly companionship. She tried now to create a house of her own, which she certainly afford, without the necessity of a husband, but it held no charm. Instead she touched the letter under her pillow and remembered Papa telling her small self that she could rest easy at night, for Mother and her dragon were protecting her and all of England. Rose's eyes closed.

She arose the next morning before first light deeply rested. She couldn't immediately recall the last time she felt so comfortable in a place. She couldn't manage to scold herself for the fanciful notion that she was closer to her mother now than she'd ever been. "Life has not been so fraught with comfort that I will turn it down where I find it," she argued to an invisible critic—and pulled herself up short, thinking Lil might have said something similar about her London escapade. Chastened and compassionate, Rose arranged a fine black lace tucker over her evening gown, turning it into a day dress. Her mother had bought the lace for her at a pretty penny when they were getting their blacks together after Papa's death. She felt that she should present a formal appearance for her first day as teacher, Florenzia having ordered her junior crew to report to school in her pavilion on that day after their drills with the Chinese Scarlet Flowers. Rose left her room in a sober mood.

Florenzia opened a great green eye. "Shall you sing now?

Rose went to the pianoforte. She explained to Florenzia about warming up her fingers and voice and trudged through those exercises, punctuated by yawns and stretches, which Rose felt she could allow herself in what was supposed to be a private area, shield by Florenzia's bulk and the unseasonable hour of the day. Florenzia hummed along as soon as she grasped the notes. Rose noted, at first without much pleasure, that when she had reached the top and bottom of her own range, that the dragon could comfortably sing both higher and lower. Then her curiosity came to the fore in trying to discover just what Florenzia's capabilities were.

By the time they had moved from exercises to songs and then to arias, they had collected an extensive dragon audience, some still munching bones and dripping blood from breakfast. Rose had been so lost in the music, as was her wont, that she did not notice them, despite their being larger than some villages, until some offered humming harmonies.

"That's quite enough," said Florenzia with some severity. "This is the only time that my captain's daughter has to practice her music, and she must not be disturbed. Now, Rose, I do not think I have mastered that last run that ended in a trill. Will you demonstrate it again?"

To the sea of drooping heads and tendrils spread before her, Rose murmured half- promises about forming a dragon chorus. Florenzia turned it into a commitment by telling them to report after the crew's lessons in the late afternoon.

Rose then spent the morning reviewing the books used by her prospective students. On the whole, she approved of Mrs. Pemberton's choices; Rose thought she could guide the youngsters through their lessons until their teacher's return. However, when she returned to the pavilion after nuncheon, she found, instead of the ten students she expected, closer to fifty. Parker, beaming like an angel, jumped up from his seat near the fore, and presented her with a bouquet of feathers, mostly chicken, but at least five peacock feathers spouted out like an unruly fountain. "I got the feathers, my lady. They're very clean, don't you think?"

Narrowing her attention to him to avoid the thought of the coming calamity, Rose snapped, "I do think so, nor do I think they ever touched ground, despite my very specific orders not to touch the birds in any way."

He arranged his features in a soulful, hurt expression. "You wouldn't want dirty feathers, would you? And I was wounded in the effort-Sally dinged me proper, she did, saying I disturbed her birds."

"Of course she did, and you not only disobeyed my orders-"

"But you're not the captain. You said so."

"-but Lord Admiral Roland's orders. And as for this-" She swept her hand out and was appalled anew at the growing crowd in front of her.

She was still staring aghast when Captain Granby appeared, shepherding six students of his own. She looked down in confusion, highly conscious of Florenzia's interested study.

"I can't tell you how grateful we are that you've offered to take Mrs. Pemberton's place," he said with his ready grin, his one hand firmly on the shoulder of a recalcitrant cadet' who cast her a murderous look. "It's very well for the third son of a lord; Laurence is perfectly capable of imparting the education he received, but some of us are third sons of coal merchants, and have very little learning to impart. I've always done my best, but I hail Mrs. Pemberton as a blessing, and you likewise. I'd like my crew to be more educated than I am." He studied her face; she knew she looked stricken. "You didn't, did you? Offer to teach in Mrs. Pemberton's place."

His cadet piped up. "Parker said as how we had to come, and his dragon would drop us face down in the dragon midden if we didn't."

"That boy is born to be hanged," said Granby, with a thoughtful glance at the seraphically smiling Parker. "That, or Lord Admiral. It's often a matter of luck. Shall I send them all away, Lady Rose?"

"We are very pleased to welcome your crew and others," said Florenzia, whose ears missed nothing said in the pavilion. "I am pleased to be able to offer my services during my convalescence, when I cannot contribute to the war effort.

Rose managed a tremulous smile. "I will try, if Florenzia is to help me. I doubt it can be worse than the Village Children's Treat." She tried not to remember that she'd lain awake all night with a stomachache before each year's Children's Treat."

"I will stay and add my basilisk glare," said Granby cheerfully.

At that moment, Lil emerged from her bedroom. "Flossie, have you kidnapped an orphanage? What do we want with all these squeakers?"

"We will teach them in Mrs. Pemberton's place," said Florenzia, still blithe. "I am sure that my captain would want us to do so."

"_We_ will?" asked Lil.

"Why, whatever else will you do?" asked Florenzia.

Lil looked around the pavilion in disgust and took herself as far away from the students as possible, commandeering a chair from a midwingman, who joined the majority sitting on the floor.

Rose reminded herself who she was—as though anyone here cared-and declaimed in her best recitation voice, unused since she'd left her own schooldays behind. "Good afternoon. I am Lady Rose Danforth, and I will assist you in your lessons until Mrs. Pemberton returns."

"You call her Lady Rose. Every time," Parker advised from his seat in the first row.

"Thank you, Parker." Rose continued, "To better acquaint myself with your abilities, I should like you to write a letter to your family, first on your slate so that I may review it. When it is corrected, you may then make a fair copy to send."

"Ain't got no family," called one of the brats.

"They don't even remember my name," said another.

"Then you may write to a friend or instructor at Loch Laggan or Mrs. Pemberton or, if you truly have no one in the world who would not be pleased to hear from you, you may write to me." Having carried on a correspondence with her mother since she first could write, Rose was baffled at the idea of having no one to write to, but she knew better than to show it.

"Don't see why we have to write anyway," muttered another protester from the back.

"Don't you?" she asked, invoking her own gimlet-eyed governess. "Do you expect to always be in the presence of those you love or do business with, that you shall never have to set words on paper? Do you expect to always be in the presence of your superiors? Or will you have to write requests for supply or reports of your activities, possibly to those who have never met you at all and know you only by your untidy scrawl on a dirty piece of paper? And with such a slovenly introduction, will these superiors decide that you should be elevated to captain? Or will they say, 'What dragon would take such a one, who cannot master his own language?' Even though as an aviator you will travel more widely than your contemporaries, still you will form and maintain many relationships by letter only. If you would not go into their presence in dirty linen and mud-caked boots, would you inflict on them a sloppy ill-formed hand, to cause them grief as they try to understand you?"

"Bravo!" cheered Granby. "I wish you'd been my teacher."

Support came from an unexpected quarter. Lil rasped, "Better take an advantage of this superior instruction. M'sister is ever so learned and accomplished, according to our mother, who wished I could be likewise. I quite wish I'd attended to her, or I would not be having such trouble with all this endless paperwork that goes with being a captain. It's not all riding a dragon, you know."

Rose gasped, but no one seemed to notice because Florenzia was speaking. "I, for one, will not have any unlettered barbarians in my crew. My captain was an educated lady, as is her daughter, and I will not endure any less. How tedious that would be, to haul around a bunch of ignoramuses!"

Fifty pairs of eyes (or possibly a million, it seemed to Rose) shifted back and forth between her and the dragon. For an instant, the outcome seemed in doubt; then the children scrambled for their slates. Rose breathed a sigh of relief.

She then noticed the three older students who had joined late and stood somewhat behind her. None of them looked happy: Emily, furious; Demane, fearful; a dark, younger boy who had to be his brother seemed only resigned.

"Emily, I am so glad to see you here!" exclaimed Rose.

"You might rather wonder at it, seeing as I am all but eighteen," spat Emily. "But my captain has ordered me to continue my studies, and my mother orders me to obey my captain and 'take advantage of all education opportunities.' Stuff! It's all right for you, Demane: you can write and ask for more crew for Kulingili, as he has seen fit to grow another ten feet, but who am I to write to, when I see my mother every other week?"

"Perhaps you could write to Excidium," suggested Rose. "Florenzia loves to receive letters. Or surely in your travels, you have made friends who would like to hear from you." As Emily grew thoughtful, Rose turned to Demane. "Why don't you write down your requirements, and we'll later add the salutations, when I have discovered exactly how the letter should be addressed."

Demane grinned in relief. "That I will, my lady. I am never knowing how to talk to anyone and so usually don't talk at all, so I don't offend." He then punctiliously presented his brother, as though he were reading from an etiquette book.

Sipho acknowledged the introduction with better grace and gave her a weary smile. "I suppose I should help the younger ones?"

"I hope all you older students will help them get started. But, Sipho, I have promised Captain Laurence to write to a childhood friend who is in his third year at Oxford, to see if he would tutor you this summer, with the goal of preparing you for Oxford. It would be well if I could include a letter from you, describing your studies so far," replied Rose, her cheeks burning at the memory of last night's dinner conversation with Laurence, whom she had tried to avoid, since Florenzia had disclosed her plans. She had hinted airily to Captain Laurence of an understanding between her and the young man in question, as a defense against any dragon's plans, when the only understanding there could be between the third son of a vicar and the second daughter of a threadbare earl was that no understanding was possible.

Sipho brightened. "Really? A tutor for me? He would come here among the dragons?"

"He is the son of the vicar of Wexley," said Rose. "He has ridden Florenzia many times. He has been looking for a job as a tutor, and this one will allow him to spend much time at his home, if he is willing to go there on dragonback—it's scarcely a twenty-minute flight."

"That would be beyond anything great!" Sipho enthused. "I'm confident of my maths—I study with Temeraire—and Captain Lawrence has started me on Greek and Latin, but he never went to University."

"I can help you somewhat with Latin," offered Rose. "I studied with the vicar's sons, and we told his wife that Latin was much like Italian and perfectly respectable. But nothing would convince her that Greek was not an improper language, and she always pulled me out of those lessons to do something in the kitchen."

"I would be grateful," said Sipho. "And perhaps...perhaps you could look over the dragon book before it goes to press. They _will_ list me as editor, which Mr. Wilberforce says is good strategy for the abolition movement—I don't exactly understand all that—but I would like for someone older, that is, more educated to read it." His voice dropped lower. "But you mustn't say anything to anyone. I've told the ferals that it's too late to make any more changes. Every day they think up a new chapter to their story!

Rose assured him that she should be happy to assist and swore secrecy. She then spent the rest of the afternoon going from child to child, spelling words, and advising on grammar. She had just collected all their slates when Lavinia Dane climbed the steps to the pavilion. She was accompanied by a thin girl of twelve with light brown hair rigidly plaited with a profusion of bottle green ribbons and tied off with a tiny white flower at the end. She would be a handsome woman when all her parts caught up with each other, but at present her features were sharp, her arms and legs long and gawky. Lavinia introduced her as Cadet Molly Meadows and left her there, moving to Florenzia's head and engaging her a low-voiced conversation.

Lil leaned back and crossed her ankles. "So, Cadet Meadows, you wish to be our runner."

"And maid," the girl whispered, her back rigid and chin high and brittle. "Lavvy and Florenzia said 'maid.'"

Lil frowned. "That's as may be, Cadet Meadows, but you need to satisfy me that you know one end of a dragon from another: which to approach with a harness and which to approach with the shovel." She fired questions about dragon statistics and flight strategy, which Molly answered snappily—her schoolwork was good, as Lavinia had promised. Lil continued with scarcely a pause to cough, "Load my pistol for me, Cadet Meadows. Take the flags and signal to Mr. Parker over there in that crowd of hooligans that he should report at once. Take this message to Lt. Roland on the double."

As Molly took off across the compound, Rose asked, "Does she know them, then?"

"If she can't find out, we don't want her. I'm not picking a runner just because Flossie likes her hair style."

Molly returned in short order, panting, to say, "Lt. Roland says she can't come right away but will as soon as she's released from her current tasks."

"That's a disappointment," said Lil. "I was counting on her to help show your fencing skills, since I'm forbidden to exert myself. No matter. Rose, surely you can hold that foil while Cadet Meadows goes at you. She can't hurt you; there's a button on the end. Cadet, Lady Rose has just boarded your dragon with evil intent, though not much skill. Take this other foil and prevent her from advancing."

Rose imitated Molly's grip on the foil and brandished it. She tried to hold it level against the girl's attacks and trusted that her skills with a tree branch in childhood games would count for something. She contented herself with defensive passivity, merely giving Molly something to clang her foil against. Then Molly thrust straight at her, as though to pierce her heart. More worried that the foil, even buttoned, would pierce her lace tucker, Rose offered an abrupt block and went more on the offensive, to keep the blade further away. Several openings arose when she could have made a similar thrust at Molly's heart, but Rose didn't want to be the victor. When the girl's hand began to tremble and her blade scrape awkwardly, Rose swept both their blades up and over to the side, coming to rest with hers on top. "I do beg your pardon, Cadet," she said, adding a breathless effect. "I am quite unused to so much exercise and must beg you to have mercy on me."

"That's enough to give us an idea of what you can do," Lil said. "Very good, Cadet Meadows. You too, Rose."

"I should say so!" said Emily, joining them. To avoid disturbing the duelers, she had been remained at the far edge of the pavilion with her hand pressing down on Parker's shoulder to restrain him. "I didn't know ladies learned to fence, Rose. I'm impressed."

"I was fencing?" asked Rose. "We used to fight with sticks and branches when I was a child. I do remember my nurse saying that if we were going to do so, we should do it properly. I didn't know that what she showed us was fencing."

"Pretty good technique you showed. Appalling grip you have, but that can be taught," said Emily.

Nonplussed and somewhat embarrassed, Rose turned to Parker. "Mr. Parker, would you fetch some lemonade?"

"Seeing as how I'm ensign now, I'd say that was the runner's job," he said.

Rose's eyebrows snapped together as she glared. "Would you not wish to oblige your dragon by waiting on her guests?"

"No need to go all ladylike on me. I'll just fetch the lemonade, shall I? Mebbe Sally won't ding me on the ear again." He backed toward the edge of the pavilion.

"I'd think you would," scolded Emily. "If I'd talked like that to my captain or my dragon, I'd have been sent back to school.

Parker no doubt missed the last part of her statement, as he was halfway across the compound, but his speed indicated that he absorbed its spirit. When he returned with a jug of lemonade in one hand and holding the other hand over his ear—Sally had a long memory—the new runner was sitting on the sofa beside Rose with the latest issue of La Belle Assemblée open across their laps. Florenzia leaned over, studying the fashion plates, while Molly demonstrated her ability to tie ribbons in the bows and knots shown.

"I am very fond of this periodical," said Florenzia. "My captain used to read it to me and show me the fashion plates. She gave it as a subscription to her daughter many years ago, thinking Lady Rose would like the patterns and music. And she thought she would just say 'Very true, my love,' if Lady Rose were to say something about hems or semiquavers. But she found it necessary to take a subscription for herself, for Lady Rose would write her about the political essays and the serial stories as well."

"Oh!" said Rose. "I worked so hard to understand the Corn Laws and the discussions of the war. Papa had to explain everything to me—at least, at first, when I was fourteen. I thought she wanted me to learn such things. Of course, I did like the patterns and music too."

"She was very proud of you, and frequently said that you had made a good citizen of her," Florenzia consoled her.

Rose poured lemonade for everyone, including Parker, in a gracious gesture. Lil informed him in a gruff growl that he was to teach Cadet Meadows her duties as a runner, which did not include doing all his current work as well. He started on a glib assurance that faltered under Rose's and Florenzia's furrowed-brow glares, which were strikingly similar.

"So I am Florenzia's new runner?" asked Molly. "For certain?"

"I suppose so, since Flossie wants you," said Lil. "It's nearly dinner time for the youngsters. Parker will show you to the dining hall. I suppose you'd better take the bedroom between mine and Rose's, if you're going to be a lady's maid as well." She waved towards the door.

Molly beamed and tore off a smart salute. She grabbed her bags and darted for her new quarters. She emerged dressed in what was probably her finery for her brother's wedding, in true country fashion: a dress made for a larger and older person cut down not to her size, but several sizes too big so that she could grow into it. Her new slippers had old stockings stuffed in the toes: slippers that would be scuffed and tattered by the time she grew into them.

"My sister, her that's maid to Lady Castain, she made me this dress," said Molly with pride. "Florenzia said she likes her crew to dress for dinner."

"Your sister is an excellent seamstress," said Rose in all sincerity. The dress had been made over expertly, but Molly had probably never had a dress in her life that fit. Rose decided that the girl should have a new bolt of fabric to make herself a properly fitting outfit. She would certainly need to know how to do so to achieve her life's ambition.

Parker, who had wandered to the courtyard to trade insults with friends, now peered over the edge of the pavilion to jeer. "Wotcher think this is? The palace?"

Molly turned on her heel and went back to her room. Fearing that the cadet's feelings had been hurt, Rose turned on Parker and swelled her lungs with a blistering speech. Before she could deliver it, Molly marched out of her room, clad once again in her uniform. She hopped down from the pavilion and crashed her fist into Parker's nose almost in the same motion. She followed up with a kick in the shins and a chop with both hands to his back, which left him moaning in the dirt. She then climbed the pavilion steps, returned to her room, and donned her elegance again.

Rose looked to Lil for guidance. Lil shrugged. "Think she's probably handled it."

"Nicely done, that was," said Florenzia with satisfaction. "Parker, you will treat ladies with respect in the future."

He muttered something through his blood-covered hand that he dashed well would; he'd no idea they were so fierce.

Another boy stepped forward to offer his arm to Molly. "Cadet Gerry Adams, of Temeraire. I'd be pleased to escort you to dinner."

With delicate steps, Molly descended the pavilion and laid her hand on Gerry's arm. With a final kick at Parker, who had risen in protest, she replied, "Thank you, Cadet Adams. I should be pleased to accept."

With Parker trailing behind, alternately groaning and protesting Gerry's thievery, they made a stately parade to the dining hall.

"I think she'll do just fine," said Emily.

"I should think so," agreed Lil.

"I have a proposal of instruction," said Emily. "I would be happy to teach you further in fencing and shooting, Rose, if you would teach me the five Scottish songs of Haydn. I have already learned the first one, and if I have learned them all when Mrs. Pemberton returns, I needn't have any more music lessons. Except for a duet of some kind, and I daresay you can teach me one."

"I should be happy to," replied Rose. "But my experience is that the reward of learning one song is having to learn another harder one." She thought of the Mozart aria currently propped on the pianoforte, her teacher's last fiendish gift.

"No, one must be fair to Mrs. Pemberton. She keeps her word on such things. After I had ten drawings in my sketch book, she allowed me to stop drawing lessons. She said that I can quit music lessons when I have mastered the five Scottish songs."

"And a duet."

"Yes, that seems to be some kind of mating ritual, to sing duets with a prospective suitor." Emily snorted in scorn, echoed by Lil. "She doesn't think I'll need more than one, and I think that's one more than I'll ever use. Still, it's a small thing—I hope."

"Spare me," said Lil, pulling herself upright to a standing position. "I've had all the instruction and music I can take today, no matter which end of it I'm on. Flossie, be a dear and carry me to the dining hall. It's time to relax with friends."

They all agreed and moved to the edge of the pavilion, only to stop short. A herd of dragons, as many as would fit in the courtyard, pressed close. Rose could identify many of their recent meals, still dripping from the massive jaws, and queasily avoided thinking about those she could not.

"If you please, my lady," said a black, sleek heavy weights, as tall as Rose's oak-tree dragon at Wexley, "we are here for our music lesson." He at least was clean, still wet from a recent washing.

"How pleased I am to see you all," said Florenzia. "Lil, I shall be somewhat delayed."

"We'll leave you to it, shall we?" said her sister. "Come on, Emily. We'll go out the back way. Don't worry, Flossie. I'll rest a long the way."

Rose cast the escapees an indignant look before turning to face the sea of dragons. She put a hand on Florenzia's side to support herself as her knees threatened to give way. Eager, expectant dragons are still creatures as big as the buildings of London with serrated teeth. She drew a deep breath, the better to throw her voice to the back row. "The first rule of music is.._.to wash your face_ before attempting it."


	6. Chapter 6

**_My Lady's Dragon _**

**Chiara da Luna**

**Chapter 6**

The next morning, after a pleasant musical practice with Florenzia humming descants, Rose corrected the children's first attempts at letter writing, a task that left her grimly determined to continue with her teaching until she could hand the duties back to a qualified instructor. The youngest children in the Wexley village school could write better than many of the oldest aviator students.

When she returned to the pavilion after a light nuncheon, Rose started in surprise. "Oh! You are playing dragon chess!"

Captain Granby looked up from the small table where he had gathered the students.

"I found this old flight table," he said with a shy smile. "I can't teach them their sums or scribbling, but I can teach them flight patterns. You called it dragon chess?"

Rose came in for a closer look. The several levels of rope lattice looked like the flight table she'd grown up with at Wexley, but Granby was using pieces of wood to represent dragons. "Lil, do you remember the set that Hollins, the old carpenter, made for me? I always made you play with me when you visited. "

"And you always won, which totally galled me," said Lil from the sofa on the other side of the pavilion, where she reclined with a handkerchief over her face. "But he carved the most cunning little dragons. Added new ones every time I was there. The idea was to put together a formation and fight the other bloke. Each dragon had characteristics, and you rolled dice to see how each one would react."

"I'd pick Iskierka for my formation leader," said Granby's cadet loyally.

Rose shook her head. "The Kazilik was so unpredictable. Much better to pick a Long Wing leader with Xenicas on each side.

Florenzia preened. "I had no idea that you were a flight scholar, Rose."

Rose smiled. "Because I can play a children's game? No, and I apologize for interrupting your lesson, Captain Granby."

He grinned. "Not at all, Lady Rose. It sounds like more fun than memorizing formation patterns."

His students cheered in agreement.

Sitting up and leaning forward to see better, Lil offered, "I can carve some dragon pieces while Rose writes down the rules."

"An excellent idea," Rose agreed. "Do pay attention to your lessons in the meantime. You need some basic knowledge to play effectively."

The students turned back to the flight table with more eagerness. Soon they were pelting Granby with questions like "Can a Regal Copper beat a Grand Chevalier?" "How many Reapers does it take to bring down a heavy weight?" "Can a Celestial use the Divine Wind to stop flames from a fire breather?" When Rose saw his eyes glaze with the effort of responding to increasingly hypothetical questions, she suggested a change of subject, to Granby's obvious relief.

Judging them still too excited to settle at their slates, she announced music for their next effort. She felt that if she was going to teach, she ought to be able to teach her favorite subjects.

She discovered that Mrs. Pemberton had begun to teach them singing in parts. Rose had them sing what they knew several times, until some were sighing in boredom and others were clamoring for a new song. She bit her lip. They had only a tenuous grasp of singing in harmony, not likely to be improved by new material. Though they had been subject to Corps discipline since they were seven, in their studies, they had not the discipline to repeat until mastery, which showed in all their subjects. She cleared her throat and announced, "Certainly you can sing these songs while standing on firm ground. But can you sing them on dragon back? Florenzia, would you be so kind as to carry them all around the courtyard while they perform?"

This idea pleased Florenzia as much as the students. She proved an apt teacher, throwing in small challenges like a quick turn when she sensed them becoming complacent. They attracted the attention of other dragons, especially those in Rose's dragon chorus, and Rose decreed that a few other middleweights could join. She pushed aside the idea of competition in favor of their trying to sing in chorus while moving at different paces on different dragons. Amidst the shrieks, giggles, and falling down to swing by their carabiner harnesses, Florenzia lectured, "You cannot complain at all. This is no different than dragons flying in formation, which we must do almost from the time we are hatched. And during a battle, everyone must work together without thinking about it."

The analogy took very well, leading to a resurgence in concentration. Other dragons crowded in, the ones who had been interested in Rose's morning music, and sang along. Rose allowed them to support their passengers for awhile, and then decreed that the children must sing different parts than their dragons.

Music became everyone's favorite subject, including the dragons', who spurred the children to greater efforts when they saw how easily the dragons acquired the skills. Rose found herself obliged to insist on a certain level of effort in other subjects before they could take part in the musical fun. She cudgeled her brain for new challenges, such as singing while dancing on dragon back and singing while the dragons danced simple country dance steps, before she presented new songs. Soon half the covert's dragons joined the chorus, so that Rose lectured and demonstrated through a speaking trumpet from Florenzia's back.

It was such a pleasure to sing with such enthusiastic musicians that Rose frequently found herself racing through the courtyard to dinner, her choral duties having run long again. One afternoon she almost ran directly into Lieutenant Martin, who obviously thought she would stop if he placed himself in her path. But Rose's mind was too full of music and dragons to notice such impediments.

After the requisite apologies and assumptions of blame, Martin said, "I spoke hastily when I first met you. I am anxious to resume my duties."

"Oh." Rose looked blank; it seemed a long ago encounter. "Florenzia makes all the decisions about her crew. I am not her captain."

"That's just it," confided Martin. "I have spoken with her, and I think she misunderstood me. I hoped that you could negotiate for me and explain that my injuries made me surly."

"Had I not been performing your duties this week and had your change of heart not come after Florenzia announced her intent to share the prize money that she—and I!-earned, perhaps I might be tempted to do so," snapped Rose. "As it is, I see no reason to to try to persuade her against her instincts again."

"Again?" He flushed beet red to the roots of his fair hair.

"My mother took you on against her dragon's wishes. Since you have resigned your duties, I feel no reason to attempt what should surely fail. I do not hold my mother's place with Florenzia, and I think circumstances have but confirmed her reservations about you."

"I beg your pardon, my lady. Certainly I should not ask you to intercede in an area that does not concern you at all. I wonder at your continued presence here, where you can contribute nothing to our work. I trust those to whom I can make my plea will see it as I do." He flung himself away, not apologizing when his shoulder crashed into her and knocked her more off balance than their original encounter. She staggered a few steps, her mind whirling in rage. She turned away, thinking to avoid the dinner table, but found Captain Laurence at her side. He gravely offered his arm; she took it in gratitude but did not trust herself to speak. As he handed her through the door of the dining hall, he said in his quiet voice. "I should not regard him. The wishes of your mother's dragon must prevail with you."

Rose paused. "Indeed, sir, I remain for no other reason." She wondered why it felt like a lie.

She had little opportunity to dwell on Martin's words or activities as the tasks of her own days swelled full to bursting. If she was not teaching the young aviators, singing with dragons, or brushing up her Latin with Sipho, she was initiating Molly and Florenzia into the mysteries of fashionable ornamentation. As soon as the stitching frame was complete and a few dyed cables delivered, Florenzia could not wait to try her custom-made needle. Rose drew a simple daisy pattern on the framed belly rigging, and showed Florenzia where the stitches must go. It took Florenzia only a few days to learn to wield her needle through the frame from talon to talon. Soon she hardly ever dropped it, but residents and visitors soon learned to jump up on sofa or chairs when the needle crashed to the floor. The crash was prelude to the heavy needle rolling and clanking across the pavilion floor, where it bruised more than one foot.

Rose had her own stitchery projects, for Florenzia had not forgotten the promise of mourning apparel. The lacy iron talon sheaths were just the beginning. Florenzia wanted a bonnet from the ells of netting and beads that Rose had acquired in London. To create a hat on the scale of a twelve-ton dragon with a mass of sensitive, bristling tendrils took all of Rose's ingenuity, Molly's willingness to sew any amount of decoration on anything at all, and the assistance of a heavyish middleweight dragon named Perscitia, who seemed to function as the covert inventor and scientist. But only Florenzia was pleased with the hat. Rose was proud of her first efforts with felt and buckram, in creating a sturdy but frothy confection that a dragon could place on and remove from her head, but Florenzia's tangle of tendrils meant that the base, swaths of beaded black netting, had to be extremely wide, and the number of peacock feathers probably exceeded the entire amount worn at any one drawing room, because Florenzia would have it so. Like the famous description of the Mint, Rose considered the bonnet a triumph of architecture, an abortion of art. Nevertheless, she took happiness in Florenzia's pleasure as the dragon donned the hat and admired herself in her hand mirror (formerly the Great Mirror in the entrance to Wexley, but suitable for a middleweight dragon to see at least half of herself).

Nor did Emily forget her offer of military training in exchange for music lessons. Emily applied herself fiercely to the remaining four Scottish songs and obliged similar efforts from Rose with foil and pistol. Rose enjoyed the exercise of fencing, but she felt more confident of her skills with a pistol, until Emily declared her ready for the rollers.

"Rollers?" asked Rose, looking at the raised platform, some six feet square, that Emily indicated on the shooting grounds. In the middle of it was a six-inch thick wall almost four feet tall. The platform seemed to be mounted haphazardly on a multitude of shorter logs, polished to a smooth gleam. Rose tested the floor with one foot. "It doesn't seem very steady."

"That's the whole point, isn't it?" asked Emily, leaping on it and walking straight to the middle, despite its tipping and tilting. "Now you try it, behind the wall."

Emily grabbed Rose's arm as she stepped up and promptly fell backwards. Despite the assistance, Rose lurched to the middle and held onto the wall with both hands.

"You load for me," said Emily.

Rose tried, not successfully as Emily made no attempt to keep the platform still-quite the reverse, it seemed to Rose. They both sneezed through the clouds of powder. Rose tried to apologize, but Emily shrugged it away. "That's how we learn to shoot on a dragon, before we get on a dragon's back and put it and the crew in danger. As you're riding a Xenica, we ought to take out a few logs to let the platform pitch more, after you've mastered it this way, that is. Now let's trade places and you shoot. Just shot, no balls this time."

Rose inched around the wall while Emily climbed lightly over it. Emily eyed Rose's split skirt. "How do you find your pants-skirt now, with drawers?"

Refusing to give into a blush, Rose replied, "I like them both very well, now that I have adjusted the drawers."

"Adjusted them? How do you mean?"

Giving into the blush, Rose examined her pistol with fierce intent. "The flaps. They were not in the right places, for a woman."

"They wouldn't be, being made for a man. And so you made them over? I should like to learn how to do that. You've no idea how hard private matters are from dragon-back," Emily leaned over the wall. "There now, you've packed it well. Let's see you shoot."

Rose aimed carefully, but a sudden lurch cocked her pistol up in the trees: falling leaves were her only reward. She turned to exclaim in disgust to Emily and found her crouched down behind the wall. Smiling, Emily stood up and dusted her trousers. "You never know where someone will shoot," she explained. "But I call that a good first shot. The pistol went off in the general direction you aimed, and you wouldn't have killed anyone." She patted the top of the wall. "That's what this is for, to protect other people from wild shots. And most of them are wild. But you get better with practice."

Rose silently vowed to do so in all haste.

She was happy to eat dinner each evening with the officers, though she tried to sit away from Captains Granby and Laurence when she could manage it, to frustrate Florenzia's schemes—or at least look like she was. But even Laurence spoke freely across the table; it was impossible to avoid conversation, except by sitting at another table, which she did not care to do, or to have her meals carried to the pavilion, as Lil often did. She admitted to herself that she enjoyed the cheerful noise and the riot of aromas from the kitchens so close, to the dining hall, unlike Wexley, where the servants dashed upstairs and down corridors in hopes of delivering dishes before they cooled.

Lavinia, as a lieutenant, was now entitled to join their table, and Rose was happy to renew their childhood friendship. Lavinia was much as she had been at seven, sturdy and cheery, except on one evening when she collapsed rather than sat in her chair.

"Are you ill?" asked Rose with some anxiety.

Granby cracked a laugh. "I'd say she's dragon-swept. Exhaustion tempered by panic in a grand worry—dragon-swept, all right, swept along, who knows where, by a dragon with more imagination than sense, which describes most of them."

Laurence smiled, with a hint of pain, and refused to raise his eyes.

Lavinia exploded the word: "Florenzia!"

"Did I not say so?" chortled Granby.

Ignoring him, Lavinia said, "She has decided that she is responsible for her crew's religious instruction as well as the rest of their education." She started to put her head in her hands, but Sally slapped a plate down. Lavinia picked up her fork and stabbed at the meat over and over without raising it to her mouth.

Puzzled at the reaction, Rose said, "Yes, she spoke of it at prayers last night, thinking she should take a more active interest. I am to ask the chaplain if he will assist in preparing those of her crew who have not been confirmed."

"He is away, taking another's parish in an emergency," said Laurence. "Otherwise I should be happy to introduce you."

Rose was disappointed at the lack of a Sunday service, but Lavinia was relieved.

"That gives me a week's grace at least," she exclaimed. To the curious expressions around her, she said, "I am to march the younger crew, those not of age, to services each week, and all females are to be attired in skirts, none of us having owned one since we were seven."

"The lot of you are spoiling that dragon," declared Granby with some authority, being captain of the most outrageous dragon in the Aerial Corps.

"It's rather too bad of her," agreed Catherine Harcourt, a young captain close to Lil's age, whose tragic eyes seemed too large for her thin, pinched face. "I can't imagine my Lily coming up with such an idea. Florenzia must be having too much time to think. She needs to get back to work."

"The surgeon does not advise it yet," said Rose, starring at her plate in embarrassment before lifting her chin in resolution. "And I'm afraid—I'm very much afraid that I'm to blame. She asked me about the appropriate attire for church and other venues. I never dreamed she'd ask such a thing of you. My mother had only one dress that she always wore to visit me. She never bought another until my presentation. So I do understand your predicament. However, I am sure that we can find something suitable in my trunks, the ones you brought me from Wexley. Molly is making her own dress, but I believe you, a rifleman, and a bellman will need proper robes."

"Yes." Lavinia sighed in relief.

Laurence smiled. "Those mystical trunks of yours. From what Molly tells Gerry, they are a source of magic."

Rose could not avoid answering his smile. "If you define magic as dresses, fabric, bonnets, and ornamentation in the form of beads, ribbons, and artificial flowers for all occasions."

"And books," added Granby. "Your endless trunks have provided my young ones with much reading matter."

Rose smiled and winced. She had packed her trunks with everything she could call hers from her entire life, and seeing hulking ensigns eagerly reading books from her nursery days was painful.

"Well, they'll have to be magic," said Lavinia. "How could Kitty Winthrop, Deb Smithers, and I wear anything of yours? I should be tripping over my hem every step, and Deb won't be able to tie the back shut. I don't suppose you have anything that would hang so far as Kitty's knees, such a beanpole she is. And I am right unhandy with a needle. I bleed all over anything I try to mend."

Rose laughed. "Mademoiselle Molly shall adjust them all. She likes the work, and she is very quick and good. Her sister taught her basic stitchery, and she mended all the clothes for her class at Loch Laggan, for a suitable fee."

"Five pence, or an extra piece of meat at dinner and an extra bun at tea," explained Laurence. "With coin the preferred medium of exchange, entitling you her highest priority. She has turned Gerry out in fine form, with a nice set of ruffles on his dress shirt. He was miffed that she wouldn't do so for love, but she told him that if people who loved her wouldn't pay, no one else would either. He does take comfort that she charges Parker twice as much and puts his work last, no matter how he pays her."

The others shook heads or chuckled, as their personalities dictated. Meanwhile, a hulking, red-faced man crashed open the door and headed for their table.

He scowled at Rose. "See here, what do you mean by it? I'm all for educating the squeakers, but when it comes to neglecting their duties, I won't have it."

Rose refused to quake. She lifted her chin and said in freezing accents. "I recall neither our acquaintance nor encouraging such neglect."

"That's Berkley, of Maximus," supplied Granby. "Do sit down, there's a good fellow."

"That's neither here nor there," said Berkley, with another scowl. "Every time I turn around, the cadets and ensigns are reading some dashed book or other—or writing letters, dash it all—and when I tell 'em to get back to their work, they tell me that you, madam, have commanded them to do so on pain of not being allowed to participate in some music-and-dancing fol de rol."

"As their captain, you are certainly the arbiter of how they spend their time and acquire their education," continued Rose, still chilly. "Shall they resume their studies with you? My class is quite large, much larger than I expected."

Defying the impossible, Berkley turned even redder. "No need to be hasty, and I'm sure I appreciate your teaching them their letters and numbers, but what I say is there's moderation in all things, and they must remember that we're at war."

"I suggest you tell them so," said Rose.

"Now I've gone and offended you, and I'm sure I didn't mean to, only that I need my squeakers to pay attention to their work. Some of the other captains aren't as easy going as me." He inched backwards, squirming under her outraged glare.

Granby drawled, "You must pardon him, Lady Rose. It has to have been at least two hours since he last had food. He must be faint from hunger. He's an utter lamb if you keep him fed. We'll sit him down and pour victuals in his mouth until he stops ragging on the best blessing our young ones have had. I for one do not want to take back my duties as teacher, at which I never excelled, not even passably so."

"But if they really are neglecting their duties," protested Rose.

Laurence said, soothing, "As you said, it is up to their captains to direct their activities. I'm sure it's a novelty for all of us to see them pursuing their studies with such vigor. It is a compliment to you, and I am similarly grateful."

Rose cast a doubtful look at Berkley, who had taken his place at the end of the table. Sally slapped a steaming plate in front of him with a snarl of her own, and Berkley became occupied with removing gravy from his coat.

"Oh, hang it all," he growled. "I apologize, madam. They will tell you I don't mean half of what I say."

"Lady Rose," corrected Laurence in a murmur. In a louder tone, he said, repairing Granby's casual introduction. "Lady Rose, may I present Captain Berkley?"

She nodded, still doubtful, and wondered who the other captains were, those captains who were not so tolerant as this great bear of a man.

The evenings found her quite worn and happy to spend in desultory activities while Molly read aloud the serial story from _La Belle Assemblée_ while Lil whittled tiny dragons for the chess game and Florenzia worked at her embroidery.

Rose easily brushed aside the twinge of guilt over not insisting on a more improving work such as a book of sermons for young ladies, . She was certain that neither Molly nor her audience would have been nearly as eager in reading or listening. Rose contented herself with Molly's improved reading skills and Florenzia's evident pleasure in the outlandish stories. Even Lil could be observed paying close attention, despite her expressed disgust, which nobody minded, not at all.

It was the sort of familial evenings she had mostly dreamed of, having known them only for her mother's short visits and the year of her first London season, when her mother would say, "Oh, Archie, do give over and let us stay at home for a night. It will not ruin Rose's chances to stay away for once. Let the swains regret her absence!" And Rose would dash off several notes to excuse them from the evening's parties, and they would all sit in the parlor, with Papa and Mother sitting close enough to touch, dandling Baby Basil between them, and Rose content to sit nearby with her stitchery to mask her pleased observation of them, as she sought to preserve the minutiae of the happy moments forever. Of course, there were family evenings with her aunt, uncle, and cousins too, which were quite different.

Even the silences were pleasant, both in London and the pavilion, when Molly reached the end of the installment and turned to the acrostic, and the others continued with their occupations. At least, such were pleasant until Florenzia threw out remarks like, "My captain was wont to say that Granby was the more handsome, but that Laurence's manners were the more gentle."

Rose held out for a few moments under the expectant gaze before saying, "I am sure I have never thought about it at all." She was sure, however, that if she expressed the slightest preference for either, that the hapless man's dragon would instantly appear at the pavilion with a captain clutched in one forehand and a clergyman in the other, both no doubt stunned, but easily able to revive enough to go through a marriage ceremony.

Florenzia looked puzzled and then whispered to Lil in a voice that might not have been heard on the other side of the compound. "Has she already begun the mating ritual then, of foreswearing any previous thought of a man?"

"Such things are not spoken of in front of children," said Rose, in an attempt at repression.

"You mean breeding?" asked Molly, not looking up from her acrostic. "They told us about it at Loch Laggan, how we're expected to have a child for our dragons. And how not to do so before it's time."

"They're good about teaching that, at least," agreed Lil. "Wouldn't do to have a bunch of brats and no one to care for them—or no one to go up with the dragons because they're minding the brats."

"I quite approve," said Florenzia. "One cannot begin these plans too early, and they should not be left to chance. Where would the Corps be if we dragons were reticent and reluctant? Now, Rose, if you do not fancy Granby or Laurence, there is no need for you to do anything you dislike. Though he may not seem the person to attach you, Berkley might do, and Maximus is quite anxious for him to beget a child also; Berkley is rather older than many of the captains. Or that nice young Hollis, of Elsie..."

"I find Berkley and the entire subject appalling!" exclaimed Rose as she jumped to her feet, throwing her mending down on the sofa.

Florenzia cocked her head. "Oh, do you? Perhaps you are like your father, then, only about women."

While Rose gasped for air and a response, Lil broke in the conversation. "Adone do, Flossie. Can't you see she's in the same situation as you? Bet you don't feel like breeding, with Ma's death so raw. Give us all a chance to move beyond tears, will you?"

As Lil blew wood shavings off her latest creation, a Regal Copper dragon larger than her others, Florenzia turned to Rose with contrite eyes. "Rose, I beg your pardon. I do see how your mind and heart are beyond such mundane concerns. I am sorry to have urged you against your inclination."

Rose started to sit down again when Florenzia suggested, "Although I am reliably informed that quantities of strong spirits can make the occasion tolerable. Do you think-"

"I do not and I bid you goodnight!" cried Rose. She ran for her room, her mother's room, and sank to the floor against the door when she had shut it (carefully, because slamming it would be vulgar). Such times bore a strong resemblance to evenings with her aunt.

But on the whole, the days passed happily for Rose as she and her students improved in all their endeavors. As soon as she could hit the target sometimes, Rose joined the target practice from Florenzia's back on their brief outings, extended to fifteen minutes, and then twenty, though Florenzia restrained herself from her more acrobatic moves. When the topmen threw out flat ceramic disks for the riflemen to shoot, Rose tried also, her only success being that she did not hit anything else either. Chagrin at her failures made her try all the harder until the day she did shatter one of the targets. The cheering from the crew startled and pleased her.

"Oh, Lil!" she called as Florenzia fluttered to the ground. "What do you think? I-" She broke off when she saw her sister's face, turned to the sky and seared with pain. Lil dashed a hand across her features and turned to snap at one of the harnessmen. "Chazzy, you lout, go to her head. You should have the harness half off by now. Can't you keep sober at least in daylight?"

Rose sat still and quiet. She felt she'd stumbled on as intimate a secret as any as she'd encountered in any of her parents' letters, which she still read, a few paragraphs at a time, with no further attempt at justification. She longed to reach down to comfort her sister but could not find the words to address a wound that Lil never meant for her to see. Still hurling invective at the dilatory harnessmen, Lil turned on her heel and stomped away. Rose stood perfectly still, in the midst of the flurry of action, as though she were invisible, tasting the salt on her lips, inhaling it with deep breaths. The sun sank behind them into the channel and splashed the sky blood red. Rose turned her steps to the pavilion only when twilight hid her from prying eyes.


	7. Chapter 7

_**My Lady's Dragon **_

**Chiara da Luna**

******Chapter 7**

The next morning, after her music practice with Florenzia, Rose asked Molly to bring food for both her and Lil so that she could wait in the pavilion until her sister emerged from her room. The younger sister was pleased that Florenzia decided to join the other dragons at the feeding pens, leaving the pavilion in cavernous silence, but Rose's stomach was shrieking by the time Lil staggered out, yawning and wiping crusty eyes.

"What, Rose? I thought you'd be at nuncheon by now." Lil turned aside to cough more vigorously than usual.

Rose laid down the slate that she was frowning over. "I had a great many essays to correct. I thought that they would wax eloquent on the topic 'On the Superiority of My Dragon,' but they appear to lack the ability for proper expression on any subject."

Lil sank onto the sofa and yawned again, though a cough caught her midway. "You can't compare them to your own education."

"I do not. I compare them to the village school, where Mrs. Marsh terrorizes the young Wexley tenantry—future farmers and servants every one-into a semblance of education. I do not feel that I ever properly appreciated her. I wish I still had the influence to increase her wages." Rose kept her eyes downward. "I do miss the work I did as Papa's secretary. If there should be any such duties that you find tedious, I should be happy to assist you with them."

Lil opened one eye but gave it the full force of a glare. "Thank 'ee kindly, my ever-so- accomplished sister, but all that's left to me of my captaincy is the infernal paperwork, that the dragons increase with their spontaneous redistribution of their crews, and as long as I'm able, I'll do my duty. I've no doubt that you could do the tasks better, but they fall to me, and I shall not let it be said that I have failed in any duty that I could perform. Whatever anyone says, I am not lazy."

Rose gasped. "Why, whoever would say such a thing in the face of your injuries and illness?"

"The same ones who think it's awfully clever of me to have arranged for my sister to take over so much of my duties." Lil sat up straight and slung herself to her feet.

Rose held out a hand. "Do not allow such ill-natured talk to distress you. Neither Florenzia nor I would ever think such a thing—nor allow anyone to say so in our presence."

"No, the two of you would coddle me in cotton and put me on the shelf, confirming all the rumors. The devil fly away with you all! I believe I am tired after all, and will rest as you so often urge me." She stomped back to her room, leaving Rose to try to focus on ill-written essays with swimming eyes.

Rose noticed fewer pupils in her class that day and tried to follow her own excellent advice of not allowing it to bother her at all. If Berkley and his intolerant friends chose to withdraw their crews from her tutelage, so much the better. She was not hurt by it, not at all.

The next few days saw one or two more students staying away, until Rose felt the class size was quite manageable, particularly when those lost had been the noisiest. In fact, she had hardly noticed the remaining troublemaker before. This boy delighted in bullying the younger ones, spoiling their work when they were ready to submit it, giving them the wrong answers when the elder students tutored the younger. Rose kept one eye on him at all times and thus saw him tip an ink well onto a cadet's fair copy of her letter. Over the girl's outrage, Rose said, using her performance breathing to be heard, "Mr. McGinnis, we have had all of your company that we require. After you present your apologies to Cadet Middleton, you are dismissed."

"I didn't do nothing." He took refuge in the cry of the ages.

Rose answered, "I shall be happy to speak to your captain about the nothing you do. School is a place to do something, and your nothing wears on all of us. Present your apologies and leave."

"But I have to learn my lessons," he whined, scraping a boot toe on the pavilion floor, which made Florenzia raise her head and frown at him.

"But I do not have to teach you," responded Rose.

Florenzia grumbled, "I should think Lily would like to know about this as well. I cannot think how she came to choose such a person."

He might have muttered something like "Sorry" as he ran.

The remaining students were polite and attentive for the rest of that day and the next.

The day following, Berkley came to the pavilion a few minutes before classes were scheduled to start. He had three cadets and four ensigns in tow; Rose realized how much of a presence his crew had been. Of course, Maximus was one of the biggest dragons in the covert and therefore had the largest crew.

Rose paused in her distribution of slates and looked at him inquiringly.

Berkley shuffled his feet. "Better the gentlemen than the hooligans," he muttered. To Rose's unasked question, he replied, "There's no one but the rowdies who aren't in school, and I don't like the influence for my squeakers. So, if you can forgive my manners, my lady, I hope you will accept my crew in your class." He did not have a paper to read from, but he sounded as though he did. Before Rose could reply, he dug into his pocket and brought out a handful of shillings. He counted seven into Rose's hand. "Here's compensation for your trouble and their supplies."

Rose flushed and struggled against a lifetime of training that called on her to refuse, but she kept silent, unwilling to interfere with the lesson he was plainly trying to teach.

"There now, I have made an investment in you, and I expect a handsome return from each of you," he addressed his crew in his growling bear voice. "You are to mind Lady Rose and your books."

"But not at the expense of your duties," added Rose with some severity. "I do not want to hear such a report of you when your country needs your best efforts."

Berkley broke into a surprised grin. "Why, I call that handsome of you." He clapped her on the shoulder, and she staggered, more from astonishment, but it made him embarrassed again. "I beg your pardon, madam, my lady, that is." He picked up her hand that still held the coins and placed a kiss on top of it.

She withdrew her fist, smiled, and curtsied in hopes of dismissing him. The boys she felt she could handle, particularly in their subdued state.

She found her pupils even more tractable and eager, with Berkley's crew anxiously showing their manners whenever possible. Rose began to enjoy teaching, especially the dragons. The dragon chorus grew every day, and they all mastered the basics quickly, soon moving beyond simple hymns.

She reluctantly brought each day's practice to an end, often scurrying late to the dining hall. One day she heard voices and nearby laughter, one saying, "You can't expect the daughter of a belted earl to acknowledge the likes of you and me, Laurence." But Granby was laughing as he said it.

Forgetting to be embarrassed, she laughed back at him as she took both his and Laurence's proffered arms. "I do beg your pardon, gentlemen. The dragon's last chorus was still ringing in my ears and I could hear naught else. When most of one's musical life has been spent in solitary effort, with an occasional duet, and, very occasionally, a high treat, glees after dinner—why, you have no idea how magnificent it is, to hear twenty dragons caroling in the sweetish harmony, far beyond any village concert or Christmas choral effort."

"Actually, we do have some idea," said Granby. "One can hear them anywhere in the covert."

Rose shook her head. "I will not allow it to be the same as standing in the center of them, blasted from every side by the sweetest notes." An awful thought occurred to her. "I hope you do not find their efforts annoying."

"Not in the slightest," answered Laurence. "They were doing a quite credible effort at Handel today, and I have enjoyed them at their hymns, though words of heavenly praise sound odd in dragons' mouths."

"I do not see why it should be so," argued Rose. "For the Psalm says, 'Let everything that has breath praise the Lord.' You must own that dragons, particularly yours, have ever so much breath. Oh, that I had half of it!"

A trio of officers passed them by at this point. Rose knew only Martin, who did not look at her. But he said to his companions, a captain and another lieutenant, who grumbled in agreement: "Something really must be done about those dragons caterwauling all the dashed day long. A fellow can't think in that din."

Rose's shoulders slumped.

"It is odd," said Granby, "how a man will seem to be as true as fellow as you might meet anywhere, and change into such a cur in a few years' time. Do not mind them, Lady Rose. No one—no one of any sense—would deny our dragons such any amusement at all, much less one so innocent and improving. Even my beast, of no artistic bent at all, has joined in for fear of being left out, and she has noticed the improvement in her breath control, and consequently, her flaming. I am very happy to have her interested in something besides fighting and gold."

Rose made a stiff attempt at a smile while Laurence said in a grave voice. "Lady Rose, I beg that you will accept my word that having the regard of your dragon can compensate for the poor opinion of most of the human race. All the captains who will speak to me-"

Rose noticed the odd construction of his sentence and his hesitation.

He continued, stouter but just as serious. "They are as happy as Granby and I at our dragons' new interest. We-the dragons and their captains-would object most strongly if they were asked to stop singing. Temeraire has written to his mother in China, proud, because he is engaged in what China feels is a proper dragon pursuit. 'She is certain to be pleased,' he said, 'and Ming too.' He bids me to ask you how to spell the name of the Handel work they were singing today. It sounded marvelous to me, as fine as anything I have heard in the opera house."

"Oh, Handel! I do think even street singers would sound well singing Handel. They were singing choruses from Judas Maccabeus," said Rose a gravity to match his. "I will be happy to write it down."

"Iskierka does not care for any of that, only that she will sing again tomorrow." Granby squeezed her arm. "Promise me you will do the same."

With a fleeting glance at the departing Martin's back, Rose said. "I do promise."

Rose continued with her work, finding that the more she concentrated on it, the less she thought about other's opinions. Teaching school subjects (including Sipho's Latin), religion, sewing, and music to both dragons and humans made for long days, which somewhat solved her problem of what house to dream herself to sleep with at night. More than once, Rose nodded off during the prayers she read to Florenzia each night. She would wake to Florenzia's anxious question "Are you sure that is the end? I thought prayers ended with 'Amen.'" And as Rose mumbled to the end of the prayer, Florenzia would fetch Captain Blakeney's sleeping pad-"Such a treat, she said, made of the finest down"-and placed it on her foreleg. She tenderly placed Rose on the pad and tucked a blanket around the young woman, though 20 human steps would have carried Rose to her own bed, and Florenzia herself would scarcely have to lean over to reach through the door to Rose's bed. Once Rose woke during this process and frowned at the ceiling, unsure of her location. "Florenzia, your pavilion is so beautiful and well-appointed. You must make your ceiling likewise, perhaps painted with a blue summer sky and fluffy white clouds, so that however dreary the winter, you have the assurance of summer's return."

The dragon nuzzled Rose into place on the sleeping pad. "When you have slept outside all your life as I have, you will not want a sky overhead. Maybe a painting of draperies? Or real draperies? My captain intended to have a fresco painted—you see the white plaster, all ready for paint. She planned to have the ceiling of the large dining hall at Wexley copied. That's why she asked you to make a drawing of it. Very handsome it was, your effort, not just a little sketch, but a lovely watercolor of nymphs, trees, animals, flowers—I did not perfectly understand it. But my captain was rightly proud of you, said the painting was very like. She had it framed and then took it to an artist, to show him what she wanted. Perhaps you can retrieve it for me? I do not know that I need Wexley on my ceiling. I have never been in the place in my life. Unless, perhaps you would like it? Rose? Rose?" Florenzia carefully laid her head besides the sleeping figure and daintily curled her tail around them both.

Late Saturday afternoon, Rose was cutting material under Florenzia's critical eye when Emily stumbled into the pavilion, her arms full of packages. "Rose, my dress has arrived! Do help me get into it!" She eyed the yards of black fabric spread out on the floor. "Whatever are you doing? Making a hatchment to hang over the pavilion entrance? I saw a house with a hatchment, and Mother said that it was because there was a death in the family."

Rose sat back on her heels and smiled. "No, I'm making a reticule for Florenzia. We shall add more beads and decoration later, but she wants it as soon as possible, even in an unadorned state."

"Are you going to take it into battle with a pig stuffed inside in case you get hungry?" Emily asked with a snicker.

"I had not thought of that," said Florenzia. "But it is a very good idea, although I would not want to get my lovely reticule bloody. And I could hit with it."

"Get Gong Su to dry some strips of meat for you," advised Emily, still joking. "Not as messy that way, though not as much ballast, either."

She glanced at Rose, was looking thoughtful. Their eyes met as they shared a vision of battling dragons swatting each other with reticules. Rose clapped her hand over her mouth to force back giggles, and Emily advised, "Or maybe not. It would be a shame to mess it up, after all the work Rose is doing to make it pretty."

It was Florenzia's turn to grow thoughtful. "I shall ask Perscitia. She does not fight, but she is very clever about designing new things, whether for battle or comfort. I have had much more time to talk to her lately and have come to appreciate her much more than I did. Perhaps a reticule solely for battle, made of canvas, so that one shouldn't mind if it were damaged. "

Trying to distract the dragon, Rose scrambled to her feet. "Florenzia will excuse me now, I'm sure. Now that the reticule is cut, I can sewing the seams very rapidly, perhaps tonight. Shall we go to your room, Emily?"

Florenzia eyed the packages eagerly. "Do change here, Emily, so that I can see your finery. I have a lovely bath that my captain liked very much, and I shall set out the screens for privacy. Molly can go to your rooms to fetch anything you require."

It seemed a good idea to both Rose and Emily, and in short order Emily was soaking head to toe in one of the large copper bowls sunk into the pavilion.

"Perscitia's design," explained Florenzia. "She and my captain worked it out. For one wants water, especially warm and hot water, so often. There is one bowl for water or tea, one for cooking, and one for bathing, and another for eating, another because you just never know, and those flowers near the edge are growing in smaller bowls filled with dirt. Pipes run under the flooring, bringing water from the ocean, which is very easy to heat, particularly with Iskierka around—she has her uses. And by some process that I do not precisely understand, the salt is removed from the water so that we all have fresh water to drink. You have only to turn these valves, which both humans and dragons can do, with Percitia's clever addition for talons. In the winter, we have the pipes running water, the bowls filled with coals, and the fireplace that my captain insisted on to keep us warm. I am never cold any more."

"This bath lovely, like bathing in a lake, only nice and hot, without the worry of what else might be in the water with you. I should bathe every day if I had such a thing." Emily sighed and sank into the water over her head.

Florenzia was pleased. "I shall speak to Temeraire. My captain was most insistent on cleanliness. She said that one could face anything after a bathe. Now, which underdress will you wear? The green or the peach?" She leaned over to peer as Molly reverently spread out the garments over the chairs.

"Oh, the peach, I think. Might as well accustom myself to the frills, and I can wear Lady Allendale's garnets." Emily scrubbed her hair furiously with a lavender-scented soap.

Lil wandered out of her room to see what the commotion was about. "Smells like a house of joy in here. Lord, Emily, have you joined My Lady's Brigade? Fine feathers for fine birds!"

"The feathers!" cried Molly. She dashed to her room and returned with an armful of feathers, ribbons, and other ornaments. She dropped them on a small round table and scarcely seated herself before she was picking up feathers to scrutinize and compare with various ribbons and beads. "That yellow!" she exclaimed, looking at Emily's dress.

"Do not even attempt to match it," advised Rose, crossing to the table. "Let it shine alone in its glory, supported by pale lemon or peach. "These feathers are very nice, very clean. Are they the ones that Mr. Parker acquired?"

"Parker!" Molly sniffed to make her point. "I don't have to use his feathers, I don't. He told me it was my duty to gather them. So I asked Sally to catch them up for me, as soon as they dropped, for she feeds the fowls every day. And I promised to trim her Sunday bonnet for her in exchange. Only, Lady Rose, it is a very shabby bonnet. Do you think I might trim one of your plain bonnets for her? You have so many."

"That is an excellent idea, and the very reason I acquired so many plain bonnets," approved Rose. "Oh, not for Sally especially, but so that I could trim one whenever the occasion required. You have done very well, Molly."

Lil agreed. "She might not be worthless, after all. Better than that blighter Parker any how. Pardon me for asking, but how many feathers are you going to stick on Emily's head?"

Molly frowned, concentrating. "I don't know," she said. "How many will fit on her head?"

Lil laughed and coughed. "You'll have her looking like a chicken herself."

"Three," said Rose on a firm note. "This is dinner, not a ball. But we will dress her hair, so-"

"Yes!" Molly darted into Rose's room and emerged with an armful of implements. She set them down with care, one at a time, on her work table, and then ran to the great fireplace to build a fire. The giant portraits of Florenzia and the Countess of Wexley, placed on either side of the fire (but far enough away to avoid smoke damage) seemed to gaze at her with approval.

"Hi," cried Emily. "I don't know what most of that machinery is, but get those scissors away. Put them in my sight, over by Lil. You're not taking them to my hair. I've just got it a perfect to go into a good braid."

The fire blazed up, making Molly jump back. She ran to the sofa to pick up her ever-present magazine. "But we have to cut your hair. Look, the latest fashions, just last month, show ladies with different lengths of hair, drooping curls all over."

Emily expressed her opinion in a way that should have blistered the paint on the walls.

Rose intervened. "Now, Molly, we can't cut Emily's hair—how inconvenient that would be every day! I will show you how to pin it up so that it looks like it's different lengths, but we must wait for it to dry more.

"And the irons in the fire?" asked Emily with suspicion.

"Those are to make the curls, though, Molly, do fetch the pomade also. Lt. Roland's hair is more fine than mine. Pomade might be better—and you are accustomed to my thick, bristly hair. Hers is much finer; you must be wary with the tongs, or you will burn her hair."

Emily yelped.

Boots clumped across the floor. By the sound, Rose knew them for Lavinia's steps, even before the young officer laughed at Molly's brandishment of her chosen weapon and Emily's splashing distress.

"I have brought the mail," said Lieutenant Dane. "You will be glad of this, Molly: our slippers have arrived from Dover. And letters all around, including you, Lady Rose." Lavinia handed Rose her letter, on much more handsome paper than the other letters.

"Thank you, Lieutenant," said Rose, emphasizing the title, as Lavinia had. They tried to be punctilious with titles in front of others for Lavinia's sake, who was known far and wide through the Corps as Lavvy. Recognizing the paper and handwriting, Rose murmured excuses and stepped away to read her letter.

"Oh!" squeaked Molly. "Show me, Lavvy—Lieutenant."

"Don't drop that thing!" yelled Emily.

Molly carefully set the tongs back in the fire before dashing to Lavinia and her bounty. She tore open the package and gazed in loving awe at her new treasures. "Ooooooh, they are so beautiful. Thank you, thank you, thank you, Florenzia! Only see, Florenzia has bought me a pair of slippers that fit! Satin!"

Florenzia purred. "Try them on, dear," she said, most unnecessarily, for Molly had flopped into a chair, the better to rip off her boots with abandon. " They _do_ fit! I can save my others until I grow into them. But these are ever so much nicer, with these pretty ribbons and rosettes, too! And, look how I can dance in them." She skipped and twirled the full length of the pavilion. She presented an odd sight in an aviator's uniform with blue satin slippers, but her audience controlled their amusement.

Molly came to a stop in front of Rose, still some ways away . "Look, Lady Rose, how nicely they fit! And that comfortable, I can't tell you! They exactly match my new dress too. Why, whatever is the matter, Lady Rose? I mean, is there any way that I can assist you."

Rose pulled herself together, conscious of all eyes turned to her, even, from the splashing sounds, Emily's, who asked, "Bad news from home, Rose? Or mayn't we ask?"

"Don't tell me Aunt's gone and croaked," said Lil. "Not that one would call that bad, not to make her go white like that. Sit down, Rose before you fall down."

"I am sure you aunt must be a lovely person, to have given you that lovely mourning brooch," said Florenzia, moving so that she could swing her tail to Rose's, which gave Rose a place to sit. "But do tell us, Rose."

Gratefully sinking down on the offered seat, Rose reflected that privacy was not a Corps value. "My aunt commands me to return to Wexley at once."

"What a dreadful person!" exclaimed Florenzia.


End file.
